


The Pirate Chef

by lenfaz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Road Trips, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/pseuds/lenfaz
Summary: When all her planned work for the upcoming special in the show she produces falls apart, Emma Swan is forced to work with the networks rising star. And she doesn't think anything good will come out of it.





	1. The Pirate Chef

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to fairytalestimeandtravel for the beautiful art!

 

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/culturalbug/media/TPC%202.jpg.html)

It shouldn't have come as a shock to Emma. They might be two renowned cooking stars, but both Granny and Auntie Em were first  - and foremost - strong, passionate and fiercely protective of their families. That was why their on screen rivalry had been such a success throughout the years. Their cooking shows were #1 in their own countries, and they used them as platforms to issue challenges to one another from across the ocean. All of which culminated in a final showdown: their awaited annual trip in which the self-styled “ _Two Old Ladies_ ” would tour one of the countries and attempt to out-cook one another.

It was set to be in England this year, where Auntie Em had taken up residence over a decade ago, leaving her native Kansas and embracing British cuisine. It all had been planned in advance: routines crafted, locations decided and a thorough schedule set up. Emma had worked on it for months - it was one of her responsibilities as the executive producer of the show and a member of Granny’s crew who would take part in the trip. It hadn’t been easy, as her counterpart from Em’s team - an erratic redhead named Zelena - had made her task quite difficult by withholding information.

That should have been Emma’s first red flag right there, but since she was aware of Zelena’s aloof behavior, she didn't think much of it. _None of them did._

Which is why it felt like a bucket of ice had been dumped over them when the news came that Auntie Em had delivered a proverbial bomb to the network. She simply refused to work with Granny again, citing personal reasons and trashing her old-time cooking rival in front of the network’s executives. Harsh words like _backstabbing, conniving bitches_ were spoken, and as soon as they’d reached Granny’s ears, detonated a chain reaction like no one had ever seen on a food and drinks network.

From there, it had escalated into a full-blown scandal, with the gossip media turning their heads to the severed relationship between the two women’s granddaughters that started it all. Ruby Lucas and Dorothy Gale’s love story had been part of the media hype around the shows, and the network had milked it for publicity for a long time. It was only reasonable, now that the relationship was over - and apparently not on good terms, that the fallout would be as public as the actual relationship had been, and would drag down the tour in the process.

This was why you _never_ mixed business with personal affairs, Emma thought as she sat there, listening to Granny’s threats about leaving the network for good and demanding Em’s termination due to breach of contract. While Emma tried to placate her side of the successful duo, Zelena did nothing but fuel Em’s rage, leading Auntie Em to pull the plug on the whole thing and resigning to go cook for a rival network.

It was a big mess whichever way you saw it. With only two months before the shooting of the annual trip was scheduled to begin, and a few weeks short of Emma, Granny and her team’s arrival in England, there were no contingency plans. There had never been a need to have them before.

So the network pulled a wild card from their sleeve and made a one-eighty turn, bringing in the least expected person to team up with Granny on the show: Killian Jones.

_The Pirate Chef_. The fucking Pirate Chef. As if Emma needed that kind of challenge in her life as she was trying to pull off a last minute miracle and save her show, her livelihood, and the jobs of several people who depended on the show - and _her_. She didn’t need someone with an ego as big as Killian Jones’ added to the mix. She didn’t.

Emma knew he could cook. The network loved him. The audience all but worshipped him. The combination of dark leather, chain belts, and a low rider bike coupled with his exquisite taste in food was a gold mine. His distinctive cooking style was all swashbuckling tales while brandishing knives as swords. His deep voice and nimble fingers captivating the audience as he made the most simple recipes seem like an exciting adventure. His trademark ending - him sliding his rings back on his fingers and uncorking a flask of rum to take a gulp once he finished cooking, his eyes flirting shamelessly with the camera - only fueled the audience further. They drank in every bit of gossip about him and his personal life as if he were Harry and William’s long-lost brother. Killian Jones was every network’s dream and he filled his part to a T.

For crying out loud, the man had gone toe-to-toe (or hand-to-hand) against Paul freaking Hollywood in a bread bake off, both of them sauntering around and exchanging barbs while kneading dough in their perfect black, long-sleeved shirts, not even a tiny fleck of flour tainting their cuffs - _bastards_. And when Killian had lost - by only a slim margin - Paul had made him dress like a pirate and use a hook in his left hand for a few episodes of his show. _Captain Hook has never looked so attractive_ was the most mild headline that had made it to the news - never mind the things that were written on social media - and his ratings skyrocketed.

So, Killian Jones it was. And, as he announced on the latest episode of his regular season, his eyes smoldering at the camera before his lips closed slowly over his flask, he was looking forward to showing Granny and her crew all the good things England had to offer.

Emma rolled her eyes as the titles ran on the screen. She couldn't wait either. For all of it to be over.

Nothing good would come out of this. She could feel it.

/-/

She had to give it to them - at least they had class.

Or at least, more class than Zelena had ever had.

Emma had been surprised to find an email from Killian’s producer - a woman named Tink Green - detailing the new proposed trip schedule along with accommodations, meal plans, and other activities and interesting sights in case she and her team wanted to take some time off and explore local attractions during the trip.

Emma had replied with suggested changes and her and her team’s flight information. Along with Emma, Granny’s entourage was composed of Aurora, her cooking assistant, Sean, one of their cameramen, and Sean’s wife, Ashley, who played the part of wardrobe and makeup assistant. They were a somewhat young team, younger than Emma, and had only been part of the show’s crew for the last few years, coming on board once the original crew had moved on to bigger opportunities within the network. Sean and Ashley had a young girl at home and were planning on extending their family soon. Aurora was saving money to have the wedding of her dreams with her fiancé, Phillip. They all depended on the show’s success to climb up the ranks within the network. _They all depended on Emma._

It wasn’t their first trip to London, so they had little problem navigating the airport and making it to the exit as they looked around for their usual driver. Zelena and Em would never lift a finger to help them with this task and it was always left to Emma to arrange it with the local network branch. All of which was why they were surprised by the petite blonde dressed in comfortable jeans and a green sweater holding up a sign with Granny’s name on it.

“I’m Tink. It’s great to meet you!” She smiled as she shook Granny’s hand and then turned to Emma. “Killian wanted to come himself, but he got caught up shooting some promos for the network. He sends his apologies and he hopes you can join him for a light meal after the briefing.”

_Well, that was unexpected,_ Emma thought as Tink grabbed Granny’s bag and directed them towards the cars that were waiting for them. It seemed Granny echoed her thoughts, if her cocked eyebrow and widened eyes were any sign.

Tink was very amiable during the ride towards the studio, pointing out a few important things about the meeting, but considerate about their exhaustion after the long flight. She briefed them on the rest of Killian’s regular crew who would be part of the trip: Belle would be the director, Robin and Will the cameramen, and Eric was Killian’s personal assistant. Emma was surprised to learn he had no cooking assistant.

Tink grimaced. “He says the prep work keeps his fingers nimble for other activities.”

Emma almost choked on the water she’d been drinking and Granny snorted. Tink sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know, but the audience loves when he does that. You have no idea how quickly that interview went viral.”

Emma could imagine, words like that being spoken in the alluringly accented voice included in the _absolutely sinful_ package that was Killian Jones. He was a killer combo of dark hair, blue eyes, light scruff, and abundant chest hair that was a recipe for success. But she only smiled and nodded before turning her attention back to their schedule.

The first thing she noticed when they entered the conference room was that Killian Jones was already waiting for them with the rest of his crew. He quickly stood and crossed the room to grab Granny’s hand and pressed his lips to it in greeting. He smiled against her knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Lucas.”

Emma noticed Granny’s slight blush before the older woman recovered herself and provided a greeting of her own. Then Killian turned to her and Emma was met with the full force of those blue eyes staring at her. They were void of his trademark eyeliner, somehow making his stare even more intense than she’d ever seen. Emma tried to tear her eyes away from his, only to notice he wasn’t wearing his usual tight jeans or leather vest either. Instead, he had on a pair of faded, loose jeans and a soft, blue Henley with a simple pair of black sneakers.

“And you must be the lovely Emma Swan, the producer I’ve heard so much about.” His voice brought her eyes back to his. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Swan.”

His lips brushed her skin and Emma felt goosebumps rise over her skin. She quickly recovered as she removed her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones,” she said in the best professional tone she could muster.

He seemed gobsmacked for a brief second, before he shook his head and motioned towards the table.

“Where are my manners, please have a seat. I took the liberty of preparing a few snacks for the meeting and I hope you can join me for a light meal that I put together after we’re done here.”

Granny took a seat and adjusted her glasses to examine the food before taking a bite. She looked thoroughly impressed as she chewed on it.

Emma tilted her head in confusion. She’d worked with Granny for years and she was never this receptive of someone else’s food. Curious, she grabbed one of the little quiches from the plate and popped it into her mouth. Suddenly, there was an explosion of buttery crust and curried lobster on her tongue and she had to repress the unprofessional moan that was coming to her lips. She opened her eyes - she hadn’t realized she’d closed them as she was savoring the bite - only to find Killian Jones’ hooded eyes focused on her.

_Trouble_ , she thought _. She was in so much trouble._

/-/

It had been a nice dinner.

Scratch that.

It had been a _fantastic_ dinner. Emma Swan was used to good food. She’d been working on Granny’s show for over a decade, moving up the ladder from intern to executive producer, and with that came all the perks of having access to really great food. But Killian Jones’ cooking was in a league of its own. A _superb_ one. She’d heard the pitch over and over in his show, the whole ‘it’s about the _experience_ , lass’ taunt that he’d so perfectly enunciated in every interview he did. What she didn’t know, until now, was that Killian Jones could actually deliver on the experience he liked to brag about.

It wasn’t a fancy dinner - he promised a light dinner and made that concept shine through - but every single dish was executed to perfection and brought not just great flavor, but triggered a variety of sensations. There was warmth and comfort in the rich stew casserole, heat and flirtatiousness in the spicy chicken strips, joviality and a feeling of good times ahead in the lemon and rum sorbet. Each piece fit perfectly together and left Emma feeling slightly dizzy and sated at the same time. She couldn’t quite remember how she’d made it out of the network and into her hotel room, to be honest, the warmth of the food and the exhaustion from the long flight causing her to almost fall asleep on Granny’s shoulder. The last thing she could recall was mumbling something to Killian Jones about his dashing palate, only to be rewarded with a heated glance and a whispered offer to cook for her anytime, anyplace, and in any compromising situation she so desired.   

When she woke up early the next morning, Emma couldn’t help but groan at the memory. The last thing she needed was a playboy chef mistaking her moment of weakness as an invitation into her bed. Emma was most definitely not interested in that, for a variety of reasons.

_One_. Emma Swan never slept with network stars. It was too messy and unprofessional.

_Two_. She never slept with someone she was going to see again. One night-stands were as far as Emma would go in terms of a commitment, and even those usually involved her sneaking out in the middle of the night without ever looking back.

_Three_. She was not interested in becoming one more notch on the bedpost of Killian Jones. She knew the rumors - hell, she even remembered the pictures of a trashed hotel room and him leaving the morning after with the Victoria Secret’s Angel of the Year on his arm. There were others throughout the years, she presumed. And she was really not in the mood.

/-/

Whoever thought the world of television production was glamorous had clearly never been near a set or a location shoot in their life. It was a gruesome ordeal with early starts and late endings, long hours each day stretching in between. Filming on the road added an entire level of complexity to the mix: equipment transportation, mounting and dismounting sets, availability of items on set, the sharing of close quarters with the same people for weeks testing even the strongest of camaraderies. You name it, Emma and Tink needed to think about it, plan for it, ensure it was available, and have at least three back-up plans in case plans A, B, and C backfired. Emma still remembered one time she had to literally wake up the owner of a pastry shop at two in the morning to convince him to give up his entire cinnamon stash - in exchange for a hefty payment - so Granny could one-up Auntie Em on the ultimate apple-pie bake off. She had used every single weapon in her arsenal - heck, she was even prepared to sleep with the guy if needed - to make sure things worked out in the end. And they did. Emma was a planner. She made detailed plans. And then she made another one, and a few more just in case.

And all of that came from one source and one source only - coffee. 

Which was why, at the (almost) crack of dawn, with all her stuff already packed and sitting in the front lobby, Emma found herself in their hotel cafeteria, eyeing the coffee longingly as if it were her one true love coming back from the dead after a painful goodbye. She was reaching for the pot when a voice interrupted her.

“Goodness, no!” Tink reached out, stopping Emma from reaching the pot. “You do not want to drink the awful concoction they dare to call coffee here.”

Emma glared at her. “Tink, we’ve just met and you’ve been nothing but great, which is why I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I need coffee. In the mornings. To function. It’s guaranteed I’ll kill anyone on sight if I don’t get a very early caffeine fix.” Emma spoke the words with as much clarity as her sleep-clouded, caffeine-deprived brain allowed her. She really liked Tink. She’d hate to murder her because she got between Emma and her very much needed morning coffee.

“We’re all caffeine addicts here,” Tink said with a smile that was too bright for such an early hour. She tugged Emma’s arm and redirected her towards the exit, grabbing her bag in the process. “And we never settle for anything less than the best we can get.” She pointed to the tour bus that was waiting outside. “Hop in, everyone’s inside and I promise you, your caffeine fix is waiting for you.”

Emma sighed and got on the bus, noticing Granny was already there with Aurora sitting next to her. The heavenly smell of coffee - the good kind - invaded her nostrils and she inhaled deeply. “What is this?”

“This,” Eric said, smiling and handing Emma a steaming mug, “is how we treat our guests and ourselves. Latte with a double shot and a dash of cinnamon, per Granny’s suggestion.”

“You have an espresso machine in here?” Emma marveled.

“Indeed we do.” Tink grabbed the mug that Eric gave her. “Being labeled as a pampered hotshot certainly has its benefits when it comes to amenities on the tour bus. Like I said, we treat ourselves with nothing but the best.”

“This smells heavenly.” She cradled the warm mug between her hands and took a small sip that she let sit on her tongue a moment. “And tastes even _better_ ,” she moaned.

Eric all but beamed proudly. “Glad to hear it.”

“I have to say, on one hand I can’t believe Killian Jones requested an espresso machine and has you making him coffee each day on tour,” Emma said with a hint of annoyance. If there was something she despised, it was the obnoxious and over-the-top requests celebrities demanded and had their staff jumping through hoops to fulfill. “On the other hand, this really is the best coffee I’ve had in my life and you and I are going to be _very_ good friends,” she teased.

Eric blushed, a sheepish smile gracing his features. “I didn’t make the coffee….”

“Then who did?” Emma asked, her eyebrows knitted in confusion and her head tilted to the side as she studied Eric's face.

“Well, _I did_ , of course.” Killian’s voice drifted in from behind her and Emma turned to find him giving her a smug smirk.

“Killian fancies himself a barista aficionado and refuses to let anyone touch his baby,” Tink offered as explanation, her eyebrows rising playfully as she took a sip of her mug.

“Aye, the _Jolly Roger_ is a very special lady and needs a gentle touch that not everyone can give her.” His hands were flying in the air with those flourishing movements that made fangirls swoon all over the globe, but Emma wasn’t impressed.

“You named your espresso machine?” She almost choked on the words.

“Indeed I did.” He took a step closer, invading her personal space. He focused his blue eyes on hers. “Also, I couldn’t help but hear the lovely words you regaled my assistant with, not to mention your reaction to my coffee.” His tongue traced his bottom lip in a sinful movement that was clearly not meant for public viewing, his voice dropping an octave into a husky whisper. “Darling, if you want a decent morning coffee, you’re more than welcome to spend the night with me. I’d be happy to make you coffee the morning after - and do other, more enjoyable, things the night before.”

He was good. She had to give him that. _Very_ good. From up close, it was clear why women fell at his feet. She could see it, but Emma Swan wasn’t one of those women. She hadn’t fallen for a husky voice and nice eyes in a long time.

“You did not just try to lure me into your bed with the promise of good coffee,” she said in a clipped tone, trying to remain somewhat amicable while giving him a chance to back out.

But it seemed Killian Jones didn't get the memo. “Not only good coffee, there are other activities _I’m very good at_. Much like the coffee you’ve just tasted, I’m sure it would be the best you’ve ever had.”

There was fun, there was flirting, there was strongly hitting on someone, and then there was this. Emma cocked an eyebrow at him, biting her lower lip and taking a small step in his direction. She tilted her head and he mirrored her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes darted to her lips.

“Hey,” she started in a soft and alluring tone, her fingers tracing a line down his chest, a hint of a smile coming to her lips. He seemed dazed, his pupils dilating in reaction to her attentions. “Let’s get one thing straight here, buddy.” Emma reveled for a second in the shock on his face before she continued in a less friendly tone.  “Those lines might work with the double-D-cup, no-working-brain-bimbos you are used to fanning and swarming around you.” She changed the pressure of her fingers on his chest to make her point across.  “But I know your kind and I am most definitely _not_ interested. You’re here for one reason and one reason only, and that is Auntie Em ended up being the biggest bitch on earth and we had to scrape to get anyone who was available. _You_ were available.” She met his eyes again and saw the embarrassment creeping into them. “You serve one purpose in this entire ordeal and that is to look pretty for the cameras and dash the viewers with your cooking skills and _nimble fingers_. From now on, I expect you to save all that innuendo-laced bullshit for the audience.” She squared her shoulders in defiance. “Are we clear?”

He swallowed and took a step back, reaching to scratch behind his ear. “Aye, understood.” He lingered for a second, looking down to the floor before he turned and gave Granny a sheepish smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with Belle and she’s on the other bus.” He motioned for Eric to follow him and quickly made his way towards the bus door.

“Killian,” Tink called softly, “we need you and Belle for the debrief in here. Make sure you both come back.” She almost sounded apologetic.

Killian tilted his head as if he were debating with himself for a second before he nodded and he and Eric disappeared. Emma took another sip of her coffee before she sat next to Granny, a small smile of satisfaction gracing her lips. She turned around, expecting to see Granny’s approving smile - Granny loved to verbally put douchebags on their place - but was met with a reproachful stare.

“You didn’t have to be that harsh, Emma,” Granny admonished, peering up over her glasses. “I’m sure pretty boy there isn’t as bad as he seems. More like all bark and no bite, if you ask me.”

There was something in Emma that had seen that too. In between last night’s dinner, when he was laughing softly and trading stories with his team, and his bashful retreat just now, there seemed to be something there. It was laced in the food he made and the coffee he brewed for them. Something simmered beneath the surface of Killian Jones, something that didn’t quite fit with the image he showed to the world. Something that made Emma restless. She quickly shut those thoughts down, her lips curving in a tight smile.

“Our livelihoods are at stake here, Granny. We can’t afford to be wrong about him.”


	2. Week #1: Edinburgh

** Week #1: Edinburgh **

After retreating to the other bus after Emma’s dressing down, Killian did return half an hour later with Belle in tow, and everything was strictly business after that. They spent most of their 7-hour ride discussing shooting schedules and supply needs. And while Granny and Killian agreed to a shared list of main and somewhat generic ingredients, they refused to let the other know what exactly they were going to cook in each show. This meant that both Emma and Tink had a secret list of items they needed to procure as well. _Fun_. In prior years when they were on Auntie Em’s home turf, Emma had to scrape to get everything. Zelena made a sport of withholding information on vendors and possible contacts, which was why Emma’s eyebrows shot up when Tink handed her a neatly compiled list with a smile.

“These are all the people you might have need to contact in Edinburgh - meat, fish, spices, pastry, charcuterie, etc. If there is something missing, please let me know and I’ll get you the contact details.”

“Just like that?” Her eyes scanned the list and wondering what the catch was.

“Well, yes,” Killian said. It was the first he’d addressed her since he returned. He seemed to struggle with looking at her directly for a moment, before he pulled himself together and curved his lips into a small, albeit sincere, smile. “It wouldn't be good form if I take advantage of having home field would it?”

“Em sure made it difficult for me,” Granny pointed out from her seat, a scoff on her lips and her eyes darkening at the memory of the constant betrayals.

Killian’s eyes searched Emma’s for a brief moment before he focused on Granny, his hand reaching to touch Granny’s forearm.  “Aye, but that is not the way I do things, Mrs. Lucas.”

“Please, call me Granny.” There was a coy smile gracing her lips and the hint of a salacious tease in her voice that had Emma almost choking with shock. She didn’t need Granny falling for a pair of pretty eyes and soft words. She quickly redirected everyone’s attention to the task at hand.

“This - this is great,” she admitted. “Thank you, Tink.”

Tink gave her a beaming smile, the corners of her mouth twitching and her eyes glinting with an air of mischief, something that Emma was starting to recognize as her trademark.

“Thank Killian. Most of these are his most trusted suppliers, and he’s already given them advanced warning that they have to provide you with the best or risk losing their deals with him if they don’t.”

Emma hadn’t seen that one coming. She was used to this industry’s cut-throat idea that the only way to look good was to stomp on everyone else. For years she had looked out for herself, Granny, and her crews. She never dared to trust anyone who could potentially stab them in the back, never going to bed until she was absolutely sure there wasn’t a surprise waiting for them. Killian’s stunt was too good to be true - too kindhearted to be real in an industry that would eat you for breakfast if you showed any sign of weakness. And yet, there wasn’t a hint of a lie or deceit in their words. Emma could spot a liar miles away and right now, there was nothing but sincerity and camaraderie in Killian’s and Tink’s words.

Emma swallowed the lump that had come to her throat, fighting back the emotion that was coming to her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Jones.”

He hid his wince quickly, averting his eyes and keeping them downcast. “You’re welcome, Swan. It’s the least I could do.” His tone was soft, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his dark green t-shirt. “We still have a considerable amount of time left until we get to our destination. Can I offer you another coffee or a snack?” He seemed hesitant, as if he were afraid she’d reject him.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to more caffeine,” Emma admitted. Killian responded with a bright smile that seemed to fill in the entire bus with warmth before he excused himself to get their beverages.

Emma was so busy watching him leave that she didn’t notice the exchange of glances between Granny and Tink.

The scenery continued to pass by the windows as the bus headed north. Emma felt herself dozing off while watching it, the lattes and snacks - chocolate bread and apple and cinnamon rolls - had left her feeling full, warm, and fuzzy, and the slow movement of the bus lulled her into a peaceful sleep. Eventually, someone tugged on her sleeve and Emma woke up startled.

“Emma, darling, we’re almost there,” Granny whispered soothingly, her eyes studying Emma with tender affection.

“How long was I out?” Emma asked, slightly disoriented as she looked around with a hint of embarrassment.

“A couple of hours,” Granny informed her, her hand still running back and forth across Emma’s arm. “I have to say, I haven’t seen you sleep so peacefully on a tour bus in years…” she trailed off, studying Emma.

Emma stiffened, her cheeks blushing and her eyes darting to her surroundings. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Tink was reading something from her phone and tapping her fingers against the table while Belle sat next to her, scribbling furiously in a notebook. A little further away, Killian was stretched on one of the bunk beds, his head burrowed in a mound of pillows as he focused on a book. The bright, early afternoon sunlight was casting red highlights in his hair and scruff. He looked impossibly handsome, the image of breathtaking domesticity.

Emma’s throat went dry and she shook her head, swallowing hard and focusing her eyes on the landscape outside her window. “We have some busy weeks ahead, Granny, and we can’t afford to drop the ball on this one. I was just catching some shut-eye before things got hectic.”

“Of course you were, dear,” Granny said. “I took the chance to review the ingredients list while you were resting. It’s all confirmed.”

“Good,” Emma replied. “Aurora and I will see to it after we’ve arrived.”

/-/

It wasn't long before they arrived in the city and the buses dropped them of where they’d be staying. Tink had opted to secure small but comfortable inns along their route so they could occupy them fully and not worry about disrupting other guests with their sleep patterns and crazy schedules. Not to mention that she negotiated full access to the kitchens, as both Granny and Killian would not just prep there, but would probably insist on catering for their crews.

“Last time we tried one of those posh, boutique hotels. It didn’t end well.” Tink sighed as she handed out room assignments, schedules, and keys to everyone.

Killian frowned as he grabbed his key and hoisted his duffel bag up his shoulder. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Killian, you barged into the kitchen demanding to speak with the main chef and then proceeded to berate him over his cooking skills while demonstrating the proper way to prepare _bechamel._ ”

Killian scoffed, and turned his head to find Granny. “You would have done the same, Mrs. Lucas. What that man claimed was _haute-cuisine_ , and the price he charged for that inedible rubbish, was just preposterous.”

“I just brandish one of my knives at them and kick them out,” she offered with a mischievous smile.

“I like your style, milady,” he teased, reaching for her bag and then offering her his arm. “Allow me the honor of escorting you to your lodgings.”

 Granny smiled as she took his proffered arm. “So many people have lost the sense of simple gentlemanly manners these days. It's nice to see there’s still hope.”

“I’m always a gentleman,” Killian said.

“ _Seriously_?” Emma asked in disbelief, watching them head off towards their rooms. “Is he for real?”

Tink sighed as she handed Emma her key. “Sadly, yes.” She then picked her own bag. “You have my mobile number if you have any issues navigating the city or with the suppliers. I hope you and Aurora have fun.”

“Thanks. We’ll freshen up and head out,” Emma said, grabbing her own bag and heading to her room. Another perk of Tink’s securing the inns for them - she didn't have to share her room with Aurora on this trip.

She wasn't sure if it was a consequence of all the coffee or not, but Emma found herself too wired to even consider anything more than a quick change of clothes before she was dragging Aurora out the door with the printed list and a map in her hands.

“We have phones with google maps, you know?” Aurora adjusted her oversized sunglasses, an air of classical movie star about her.

“I know, but it’s never bad to have a backup.” Emma stopped at a window shop and admired some of the scarfs on display. “Look at those, they are pretty.”

“You seem awfully cheerful,” Aurora noted, smoothing the pleats of her yellow sundress.

Emma shrugged, her finger tracing a pattern on the display window before she pulled out the list Granny had given her. “First stop is on the way to the Castle…”

“Oh, I love castles!” Aurora said cheerfully, her smile widening.

“I know you do. Let’s go!”

A few hours later, they had seen a few highlights of the city and tried out some local treats on their way of getting Granny’s secret ingredients. Emma and Aurora almost had to drag themselves to the last supplier location, the activities and excitement of the day - not to mention that everything seemed to be uphill - taking a toll on them as they carried their bags.

Aurora scanned their list, double checking the spices Granny needed. “Well, it could have been a lot worse.”

“Oh yes, the city is lovely! Plus the inn is really nice, the bedrooms are great. And I’m sure Granny will treat us more than fairly food-wise,” Emma said with an extra spring in her step.

Aurora stopped and grabbed Emma’s arm. “Alright, you are _too_ cheerful. I’m worried.” Emma could see her eyebrow cocking even through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.

“Maybe it’s the Scottish air,” she sighed happily, resuming their walk.

“Maybe it’s the British _touch_.”

“Aurora!” Emma looked away and grasped to find a quick change of subject. She knew that tone. It wouldn’t be the first time Aurora had gotten the idea that Emma was destined to be with someone within the first hour of them meeting said person. Heck, it seemed Aurora was as fast at trying to set Emma up with anyone within a 10-mile radius as she was at julienning carrots.

“Come _on_ , he couldn't take his eyes off of you. Even _after_ being shut down in such a brutal way.”

“He had it coming,” Emma replied with all the self-righteousness she could muster.

“Well, he seemed to like it. I would never have pegged Killian Jones as being into that sort of thing, but you learn something new every day it seems,” Aurora teased and Emma couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her lips.

Their laughter was quickly interrupted when they turned the corner of the street for their next supplier and Aurora stopped, pulling Emma behind her.

“Look, there he is!”

And indeed, there was the man himself coming out of the store with his two cameramen - Emma seemed to remember that the sandy blonde was Robin and the dark brunette was Will - carrying grocery bags. They were laughing and seemed to be joking with one another, if their facial expressions were anything to go by. Emma’s eyes focused on Killian, from his stonewashed, loose jeans and sneakers to the simple black fleece he was wearing. His hair was disheveled and he seemed happy. It was mesmerizing. She had seen the flirty side of him before and it had been attractive. To a point - a point she refused to acknowledge even to herself, but it was seeing him like this that had Emma getting absolutely lost in him.

“He certainly is handsome,” Aurora mused before spinning around to look at her with wide eyes. “Don’t tell Phillip I said that. Emma!?” she asked when she noticed that Emma wasn’t paying attention to her.

“Emma shook herself out of her daze. “Huh?”

Aurora shot her a smirk. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Aurora…” Emma started but Aurora pointed a finger at her.

“It’s not a crime to find him gorgeous, you know.”  A small smile came to her lips as she waved her hand in the air. “You’re single, he's single-”

“He's _trouble_.” Emma emphasized the word with a wave of her own hand, because she knew trouble when she saw it. And Killian Jones was the kind of trouble she didn’t like to be in. Not anymore.

They both turned their heads to catch a final glimpse of Killian and his team turning the corner, talking and laughing as if they were old friends.

“That too.” Aurora’s eyes glinted with that match-making air Emma knew - and feared - so well. “And there is nothing wrong with some trouble here and there.”

/-/

She had to hand it to him. The fact that the man cared so deeply about his coffee making ritual - he’d literally set his beloved _Jolly Roger_ in the kitchen of the inn the moment they’d arrived - had been in everyone’s benefit. Being presented with a double vanilla latte with a dash of cinnamon first thing in the morning was a gift in its own right. It being handed to her by the man of the hour himself, all soft smiles, disheveled hair and sleepy eyes, was another matter entirely. No one should look that good at five in the morning, but somehow he seemed to do it effortlessly. Emma would have spat some snarky remark at him if she weren’t so entranced by the mystical coffee experience she was having. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until the sound of Killian clearing his throat had her quickly opening them to meet his gaze.

“Admit it, it was good,” he said with only a hint of innuendo in his voice.

Emma toyed with her mug, her tongue darting out to wet the rim. She relished in the way Killian’s eyes widened as she did, but only offered a shrug. “I’ve had better,” she said with a hint of flirtation in her voice and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

He swallowed and seemed dazed for a second before he got a hold of himself. “Liar.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased, her voice dropping to a low murmur.

His eyes flickered to her lips. “Perhaps I would.” His voice was nothing but a whisper of feigned carelessness, bringing shivers down her spine. “But in the meantime, I believe we have an entire day of cooking and shooting ahead of us.” He tilted his head before he moved towards the exit.

She couldn’t stop the question that came to her lips. “What’s on the menu, hotshot?”

Killian turned around and stepped back toward her, his eyebrows waggling at her as he bent down, his lips almost grazing her ear. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know?” He bit his lip playfully before leaving her side. Her eyes followed the hard lines of his back muscles as he retreated to the exit.

_Perhaps I would._

_/-/_

The next time she saw him he was fully styled and ready for the day’s shoot in tight black jeans, a dark grey shirt with a paisley pattern, a black zippered vest and a black leather motorcycle jacket. His hair was artfully disheveled to give the sense that he’d just rolled out of the bed of the nearest supermodel - and in all honesty, Emma couldn’t find much of a difference from the hair she’d seen at five that morning - and his eyes were rimmed with black eyeliner. He had rings on both hands and a black, dangling earring on his right lobe.

The man looked positively sinful. _Sex on legs_. Like he could toss you over his shoulder and carry you to the next available surface, bend you over and -

Emma shook her head in an effort to banish those images from her mind, but it seemed he could read her like an open book.

“What do you think, Swan?” he asked as he made his way towards her, invading her personal space. “Is this dashing enough for you and the viewers, love?” The way he pronounced the last word, and how his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, should have been illegal. His eyes bored into hers. He looked even more striking with the black eyeliner contrasting against the blue of his irises. “Or should I take it up one more notch or two?” He rolled the words in his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow at her.

Yep, that _was_ probably illegal in a few states. She swallowed and his eyes darted from her eyes to her lips before they were back and fixated on her. “Yeah,” she started a little feebly and forced herself to sound more self-assured. She was a professional and she was only assessing how his dashing looks and flirting ways would entice the audience to tune in week after week. “That'll do,” she finished in a clipped tone.

His entire demeanor changed instantly, his smile morphing from sinful smirk to a goofy grin, his eyes from a smoldering stare to puppy dog eagerness. “Good!”

He sounded so stupidly proud of himself. It made Emma smile wider and they got lost for a moment, staring at each other before someone near them cleared their throat.

“Killian!” Eric called, giving them an apologetic smile. “They’re ready for you.”

The smolder and the smirk were back in place when he gave her a final look. “Showtime, Swan.”

She watched him turn and walk away from her, dazed by the way the jeans clung to his lower _assets_ before she realized she probably should stop ogling the star of the show and follow him to where the filming was about to take place.

When she made it there, Killian was standing by a shiny black motorcycle complete with sidecar, his smile dashing and carefree as Granny stood next to him. Robin, Will, and Sean were at their places, cameras at the ready. Tink was hovering near Belle, the both of them talking animatedly in hushed tones. That caught Emma’s attention. Something about it reminded her of a few instances where Zelena had been sporting the same attitude and Emma had to go the extra mile to figure out what shenanigans she was pulling on them. She’d thought Tink was different. She’d thought she could let her guard down for the first time in ages and trust someone. Tink and Killian, with their nice words and promises of _good form,_ had clearly been playing her for a fool.

How could she’d been so stupid? Emma wanted to kick herself but there wasn’t time for that. She’d do that later that evening with five shots of whiskey. Now, now she needed to fix this. She signaled Aurora and Ashley to stand by and they both looked at her confused. It was then that Tink and Belle noticed her staring at them and they both exchanged a quick glance before Tink darted in her direction.

“It’s not what you think,” Tink started and Emma narrowed her eyes at her.

“Really? Because it pretty much looks like you had Killian entertaining me with his dashing looks and goofy grin act while you went behind my back and concocted something with Belle.”

“Actually, I did concoct something with Belle,” Tink admitted and Emma wanted to shove her to the side, reach for Granny and remove her n from whatever uncomfortable situation they might have thought up. “But in all fairness, I didn’t have Killian distracting you. I had _you_ distracting _him_ ,” she confessed.

Emma’s shock must be visible in her face, because Tink gave her a mischievous grin before dragging Emma by the elbow towards the set. “It’s about to start, come watch!”

Right on cue, Belle yelled action and Killian moved into place. He walked towards Granny, all swashbuckling bravado, his hips swaying slowly with each step. He stood next to her, his hand on his belt bringing the attention to where his jeans were accentuating some of his best features. His tongue darted to lick his lips - and that looked as good on camera as it has looked up close - and he gave Granny a once over and bowed.

“So, my dear Mrs. Lucas,” he said in that low and smooth voice that had women swooning everywhere. “Would you accompany me for a journey through the ol’ land and a little bit of friendly cooking competition?”

Granny giggled - _fucking giggled_ \- and Emma knew something was up. She’d never seen the woman giggle or lose her cool with anyone.

“Why not?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Killian smiled and quickly presented her with a helmet. “Hop in the sidecar. I’ll drive.”

Granny looked Killian up and down, and Emma saw the exact moment she dropped the act. She took the helmet and tossed it back to him, hitting his chest with little force but all the intent.

“In your dreams, pirate boy,” she said in that fierce tone that made network executives tremble. “You hop in the sidecar, this is _my_ ride.”

Killian’s shocked expression was priceless. The fact that it was sincere and not at all an act added to the perfection of the shot and the moment. Emma knew good television when she saw it and Tink’s move had been perfect.

“And CUT!!!” Belle yelled and they all cheered. “Perfection! Congrats everyone, that is how you start a show.”

Tink gave Emma a quick glance and she chuckled. “That was great,” she admitted. Tink beamed and she and Belle high fived each other.

“Wait a minute!” Killian had found his voice - and his composure - and was looking from Tink to Belle with an astonished look. “You two planned this? And you didn’t tell _me_?”

“Of course we didn’t tell you,” Belle admitted. “I needed your reaction to be real. And you’re _not_ that good of an actor.”

Killian huffed. “How could you? I introduced you to your husband!”

“And we’re very thankful for that, aren’t we, doll?” Will said as he reached to pat Belle’s butt.

Belle took one second to give Will a salacious glance and looked back to Killian. “We are, but this is show business, Killian.”

“Come on, Killian. It was simply too good to resist,” Tink added.

If Killian had looked hurt at Belle, he was simply irate at Tink. “ _You_! Belle’s betrayal, I can understand. Maybe. But you…” he started, pointing his finger at her. “I expect more of you. You’re my sister!”

“Sister?” Emma choked. She hadn’t seen that one coming.

“ _In-law_ ,” Tink clarified. “Sister-in-law.” She gave Emma a small shrug. “Tink Green-Jones, although I don’t use the last part much to avoid gossip or his raving, crazy fans thinking I’m married to _him_.” Her eyes turned back to Killian, her mischievous expression back in place. “And yes, I know you also introduced me to my beloved husband, but come on, Killian, even _he_ thinks this was a fantastic idea.”

Emma wished they had kept filming because Killian’s expression at Tink’s words was just about everything she ever wanted to have in a show.

“What in the _blazes_? Liam knows about this?”

Tink waved him off. “It might have come up in our skype session last night. He thought it was brilliant.”

Killian ran his hand through his hair. “Why can’t the two of you just have video sex like all normal couples?”

“Killian!” Tink cried, feigning offense. “Besides, who says we didn’t?”

“Ugh, bloody hell, I need a shot of rum! Or a new producer.” He turned to face Emma, tilting his head and giving her a winning smile. “Swan, how about it? Would you be interested in saving me from my misery? I’d like a producer who has _my_ best interest at heart.”

Before Emma had a chance to answer, Granny’s voice rang through the air. “You’d have to pry her from my cold, dead hands, boy.”

“Sorry, Jones.” Emma grinned. “I’m very much taken.”

“Yeah, that is quite sad, love.”

Emma watched him a moment. There was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Something that made her stomach flutter a little and she tried to quickly shut that feeling down. Before she could really name it, Killian seemed to recover and he took a look around. “Ok. Now that you’ve all got your laugh at my expense, can we get to the cooking?”

“Come on, pirate chef, show me what you got,” Granny said as she got on the motorcycle.

Killian grinned as he hopped into the sidecar and adjusted the helmet. “You asked for it, Granny.”

“Bring it on, Jack Sparrow.”

“ _I love her,_ ” Tink whispered to Emma, Belle close enough to hear and echo Tink’s words.

“I think it’s safe to say that this - this is going to be a huge success,” Belle said as Killian and Granny got ready for the next shot.

“You know what?” Emma said with a wide smile. “I think so too.”

And for the first time in a long time, Emma found that she meant it.

/-/

The shoot went well - _really_ well. Emma couldn’t recall the last time, or if there’d ever been a time, when filming had gone by so effortlessly. Both teams worked together and the energy flowed between them like a well-oiled machine.

Unlike with Em and Granny, where you could feel the tension and their overall need to crush each other, with Killian and Granny it was almost as if a grandmother and grandson were sharing their generational perspectives on screen. There was a reverence from Killian when Granny spoke - a respect for the classics and the value of cooking. And Granny showed genuine interest when Killian demonstrated a fusion dish or a new technique for her, along with an acceptance that some changes were for the good.

Not to mention the way they complemented each other on screen. It was like magic. Their cooking styles and the dishes they prepared - Tuscan steak salad for him and pasta sautéed with veggies for her - matched perfectly. There was this particular tempo going on between them, the back and forth in the kitchen followed by bantering that just _clicked_. 

The episode’s final scene included an improvised moment in which Killian put his rings back in place under Granny’s scrutiny. She pointed to one and took it in her hands to admire the work. Killian bowed, his hand grabbing Granny’s as he put the ring on her finger and lifted her hand to his lips. Granny swatted his shoulder but her eyes had been shining with mischief before she commanded he hand over that flask of his.

_It was glorious_.

“They’re bloody perfect together,” Tink sighed once Belle yelled cut.

“They do make quite a team,” Emma acknowledged.

“So do we.” Tink raised her mug and clinked it against Emma’s. “Here’s to a fun season.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she smiled as she took another sip of Tink’s almond tea.

They wrapped up in no time. Cameras and equipment packed and ready for the next leg of the trip. Boxes with utensils stacked on one corner. Everyone stayed behind to simply hang out, eating the food cooked on the show - it seemed Granny and Killian shared a kinship when it came to producing large quantities of food for their crews, and passing around a few locally-brewed beers. Will and Robin were cracking jokes with Sean. Ashley and Aurora sat with Tink, exchanging beauty tips and bonding over sundresses. Granny was nearby, talking to Belle about her early days in television and the first few female directors she’d seen battling for opportunities in the past. Emma could feel the calm atmosphere in the air, one of genuine bonding and goodwill that made her feel a little less guarded, a little more carefree. She took a deep gulp from the red ale she’d been carrying and took a piece of steak from one of the plates nearby, popping it to her mouth. The flavors invaded her mouth and she almost moaned at how great it tasted.

_Fuck, that man could cook._

She could get used to eat something like that every night. She could picture herself coming home to the smell of freshly made food and stealing bites before mealtime. They would taste like comfort, and snuggling in the couch by the fire, and watching a movie as she laid her head on his shoulder.

She shook her head, realizing that for the first time her daydream included a person to come home to, something she hadn’t pictured in years. It had been a blurry image, but somehow there was a sense of familiarity there that made Emma’s nervous, raising goosebumps on her skin and making her want to scratch that spot below her elbow. She resisted the urge for a few seconds before giving in. Her fingers itched at her skin as she took in her surroundings. The sun was setting and the orange tints in the lighting were bringing more warmth to the atmosphere. She caught Killian watching her intently as he packed his knives. He gave her a tentative smile, reaching to scratch behind his ear.

Emma smiled back. Then she moved to check with Ashley and Aurora on the schedule for the next few days, ignoring how that sense of familiarity came back the moment her eyes connected with his.


	3. Week #2: York

** **

** Week #2: York  **

She figured it was bound to happen. If she was using Killian’s suppliers list to shop for Granny’s secret ingredients, it was very likely that she’d run into the man in question at some point. Emma and Aurora had been able to dodge him in Edinburgh, but it appeared Emma was not that lucky in York.

It had been an uneventful trip from Scotland to York, and they made it to the inn ahead of schedule. The inn was absolutely delightful, its stone walls covered in ivy and its rooms cozy. Granny commandeered the kitchen, kicking Killian out after he placed his beloved coffee machine in it and claiming the first turn to cook dinner for the crew. She had left specific instructions for everyone to be back at the inn by seven sharp if they wanted to savor the meal properly.

That left a considerable amount of time to go shopping for ingredients, but not enough to also tack on sightseeing or non-work shopping. Emma knew Aurora and Ashley had been looking forward to both - there had been a lot of talk about a fancy lingerie store they had spotted a on their way into town. And since she had no interest, and no one to benefit from sexy lace panties, Emma volunteered to do the ingredient shopping and let them have the afternoon free.

The weather was nice, so she’d pulled on a pair of capri pants, a green shirt and flat shoes, braided her hair hastily, and put a pair of massive sunglasses on her face. She’d walked across town, checking her map along the way, in order to get to all the places she needed. Her nose was buried in her map and she was not paying attention to where she was going when she bumped into someone. Emma stumbled, losing her footing and almost falling backwards before a pair of strong hands reached out to hold her steady.

“Easy, Swan.” She looked up to find Killian in front of her. “You might want to look where you’re walking.”

He was so close - so impossibly close - that she could see the little gold flecks mixed in with the blue of his irises. His lips curved into a soft smile and she had to blink a couple of times to shake herself out of her daze. She slowly took a step back.

“Thank you, and sorry,” she said sheepishly.

He shrugged his shoulder. “No apology needed.”

Emma took a moment to admire the way his cargo shorts and grey t-shirt accentuated all the hard planes of his body as he tilted his head towards the shops next to them. He truly was incredibly attractive, perhaps even more in person than on camera.

“Well, it seems Granny and I have a craving for good cheese, don't we?” he said, bringing Emma’s attention back to his words and not his physique. She looked at where his hand was pointing to the deli in front of them.

“Yeah, it seems like it,” she said, reaching to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, her sunglasses carefully perched at the top of her head.

“Look, Swan,” he started and then stopped to scratch behind his ear. “I know that in the past this competition had been an ordeal on you and Granny, hence the need for secrecy and going our separate ways. But we’re both running out of time here, and I don’t want to risk Lady Lucas’ rage by arriving late to dinner.”

“Are you afraid of what Granny would do to you?” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I would never picture _The Pirate Chef_ being scared of a harmless, old lady.”

“Granny, harmless, aye. Does anyone buy that one?” Killian chuckled. “But it’s not that - although I won’t deny that I think she could slice me with those knives in under two minutes. I just - I know what it's like to pour every bit of yourself into a meal and have it ruined because people arrive late.”

“But -” Emma started but he cut her off, taking a step forward and putting a finger on her lips. She could feel the electricity running through her at his touch.

“I know food can be reheated, but it doesn't taste the same,” he said, his eyes boring into hers, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I know it’s hard given the history, but try something new, darling. It’s called _trust_.”

He was so close, his sincerity so palpable, and with his finger tracing absently across her lip, all Emma could do was nod. He smiled, a genuine, small thing that brought her warmth, before he stepped back and gave her a little bow. “After you, milady.”

 /-/

Whatever he expected from her, it was clear that Emma surprised him as she carefully inspected a few wheels of cheese.

“I need pecorino and brie,” she told the shop attendant, who had almost fainted at the sight of Killian.

“We have this one on sale,” the girl said, her eyes following Killian around the shop. Emma scoffed, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of that or because of the cheese the girl was pointing her to.

“How about you show me the good ones, huh?” she asked with exaggerated sweetness, taking a few steps towards where Killian was standing. “This one, perhaps? It seems slightly more aged.”

She heard his chuckle before her eyes focused on him. He was looking at her with an amused stare. “I’m impressed, Swan,” he admitted.

“Well, Granny didn’t train a fool. I used to prep for her when I was only an intern.” Killian nodded in appreciation.

“But Mr. Jones was probably going to have that one -” the girl tried to protest, but Killian waved his hand.

“Mr. Jones is more than willing to resign his rights to the cheese to please the Lady Swan. Unless, perhaps, she’d be willing to share the loot?” he asked in a tone she was sure got him laid more than a few times.

She made a big deal out of contemplating it, screwing up her face and tapping her finger against her lip before she smiled. “Maybe just this once, because you’ve been such a good boy,” Emma teased.

She didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened for a brief second before he bit his lower lip. “Thank you, love.”

/-/

The food was being set on the table as they returned, nearly late since Emma had insisted on taking a detour to get a cup of hot chocolate despite Killian warning her about ruining her appetite so close to dinner. They were still bickering back and forth when they entered the kitchen, and if Granny, or the others, noticed, they seemed too focused on the food to care. What Granny did notice, however, was the paper cup Emma was holding.

“Emma! You’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Told you, Swan,” Killian whispered into her ear as he passed her, grabbing a serving dish from Granny’s hands and moving towards the dining room.

“Oh bite me, Jones,” Emma replied and he turned around to cock an eyebrow at her.

“ _Gladly_ ,” he teased and quickly moved away from the hand he knew was meant to swat his arm. He gave her a smug smile before he turned to Granny.

“This looks great, Granny, _and smells divine_.” He placed the food on the table and pulled out a chair for the older woman. “Thank you so much for cooking this evening. I’ll take the shift tomorrow night.”

“My pleasure, boy.” Granny sat down and motioned Emma to sit as well. Killian was quick on pulling out a chair for her too, before noticing the only seat remaining was on the far end of the table. His smile seemed to falter a little.

“Everything ok, Killian?” Tink asked as she passed Belle the grilled vegetables.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he said with a small smile before he went to sit next to Robin.

/-/

Killian excused himself after dinner to start prepping for the next day, kicking everyone else out of the kitchen save Eric, who was helping with the dishes. There was a small smile on his lips as he bade them all goodnight, his eyes lingering on Emma. She refused to acknowledge the fluttering in her stomach his stare provoked, blaming it on exhaustion and the comfort of a full stomach. She dragged herself upstairs and collapsed into bed, her mind drifting peacefully to sleep.

The next morning her coffee was waiting for her, handed to her by Eric this time as Killian had already departed to finish his prep. She only saw him again when they made it to the set, a stone kitchen with a lovely, old stove in an even lovelier cottage Tink had secured. The natural light casting warm colors over the table made a wonderful contrast to both Granny and Killian’s modern clothing, and it was complemented by Belle’s beautifully crafted shots.

“Belle,” Emma said as she saw a few of the dailies, “this is just breathtaking. Fantastic job.”

“Why, thank you.” She beamed proudly at her.

They took a break between shots, both Killian and Granny using the time to check on their food - creamy spinach and brie tortellini for Granny and mini ham and cheese quinoa cups for Killian. “You know, Granny, you could have mentioned you had an extra secret weapon in Emma’s cooking knowledge,” Killian said. “I was thoroughly impressed by the way she was able to identify what was clearly the best piece of pecorino in the entire shop.”

“I _know_ ,” Granny preened, looking proudly at Emma as she dried her hands with her apron. “But you should have seen her when she first came to me - could barely heat a poptart. I taught her everything she knows.”

“Not everything,” Emma chirped, throwing Granny a salacious wink.

“True, but you had terrible taste before, don’t deny it.” She turned around and looked at Killian conspiratorially. “She used to put pineapple in her pizza.”

Emma wasn’t convinced that Killian’s horrified expression was a mocking one. “Swan, _why_?” he asked, sighing. “Why would you do such thing?”

“Come on, Jones, it’s not a big deal.”

“Tell that to the thousands of Italian grandmothers who are now turning in their graves. It is a big deal, Swan. Almost a crime against humanity.”

“Don’t worry, my dear.” Granny patted Killian’s arm. “It has been addressed. I assure you, we won’t be subjected to such atrocities.”

“I’m glad to hear you so, Lady Lucas,” Killian said as he put the final touches on one of his quiches. “And it’s only fair to say, you have done a great job in teaching Emma.”

“Indeed I have. It’s a shame she’s such a big shot producer now that she can’t prep for me anymore,” Granny said in a mocking tone and Emma stuck her tongue out at her. “But you should see her bossing crews around, she’s even better.”

“I have no doubt Miss Swan can excel at anything she puts her mind to,” Killian said, bowing at her.

Emma laughed and rolled her eyes before she left them to check on the preparations for the next day’s trip.

Late that night, after they’d packed, eaten, and were all set to head onto the next location, there was a knock on her door. She adjusted the knot on her robe as she opened it. Eric was standing there, a smile on his face and a paper cup on his hand.

“Mr. Jones asked me to bring this to you,” he said as he gave her the cup and a note. She smiled and thank him, closing the door before opening the letter.

_For the Lady with such an exquisite palate, it’s only fair she gets the best. This, they tell me, is the best hot chocolate in town. Let me know tomorrow what you think of it. Have a pleasant night, Killian._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all the love to fairytalesandtimetravel for the banner, which depicts a scene from this chapter


	4. Week #3: Nottingham

 

** Week #3: Nottingham **

“You don’t need to provide coffee for what is a two-hour ride tops, Killian.” Tink sighed as they all got on the bus, ready to move onto Nottingham. “I’m pretty sure we can live with some caffeine from a cart nearby -”

“Don’t!” Killian cut her off, his jaw clenching and hand fisted next to the espresso machine he was setting up. “I can’t drink that, you know it.”

“Killian,” Tink started with soothing voice, “you know it’s ok. You’ll be ok.”

“They over-extract the coffee and overheat the milk. Don’t make me drink that,” he begged.

“You’re such a drama queen sometimes.” Tink sighed again and Killian grinned in triumph. “Do you see the bollocks I have to put up with each day?” she asked Emma as she flopped onto the seat next to her. “He’s unbearable.”

Emma snorted and rolled her eyes. “You think this is bad? Granny refuses to eat any type of frozen food. It doesn’t matter if it is all we can get at two in the morning in some godforsaken town. Nope, the woman needs to have fresh food. I swear, I almost had to sleep with a butcher once just to get him to sell me some pork chops after midnight.”

“Lucky him,” Killian muttered under his breath and Emma cocked an eyebrow at him. “Love, you can hardly blame the man, can you?”

“Ugh, get away, Jones, this is producer’s talk. Shoo!” Tink waved her hands as if she were swatting an obnoxious bug away. He stuck his tongue out at Tink before handing Emma a mug.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to Granny about the two of you instead,” he chirped childishly, grabbing another mug and moving towards the front of the bus.

“He’s really _that_ bad?” Emma asked seriously, taking a sip of her coffee and getting lost in the hint of chocolate mixed in the drink.

“Actually, not at all.” Her hands cradled her morning tea. “Granted, I am biased because I do love the idiot as if he were my actual brother and not just my brother-in-law. But he’s cool. Weird cooking quirks notwithstanding.”

Her fingers traced the condensation on the rim of her mug. “We’ve been with him forever, you know? Belle and I, we met him in university. You could see it, even then. He had everything he needed to succeed. And when he did, he never forgot about us. He fought to have us as part of his crew. He simply refused to leave us behind.”

There was such emotion in Tink’s words, not just kinship, but an overwhelming loyalty that made Emma swallow a lump in her throat. “You’ve been through a lot together, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, we have.”

There was something in her voice that made Emma feel there was a part of the story she didn’t know about, but everyone was entitled to their secrets. Tink bumped her shoulder. “Probably as much as you and Granny have, right?”

Emma nodded, her eyebrows quirking. “You know, sometimes I do think of quitting,” Tink confessed, “find something else, spend more time with Liam. Bollocks, I spend more time with my brother-in-law than with my husband, but I just - I can’t leave him alone.”

“I’m sure he’d survive,” Emma said, not wanting to admit she’d thought about it too sometimes - leaving the show and doing something else. But unlike Tink, she didn’t have anything - _anyone_ \- to go back to.

“I’m not sure he will,” Tink admitted.

/-/

Killian was waiting for her when Emma came down from her room ready to go out shopping. He was wearing his faded jeans with a grey Henley this time, all of the buttons undone and showing a little of that chest hair he was so proud of. A pair of classic Ray-Bans hung from the V cut of the shirt and he was carrying two plastic cups with the fresh lemonade he’d just made.

“I think I’ve now proved I can be trusted?” Emma eyed him. “Plus, Granny said it was fine. I even have a note from her.” He handed her one of the cups and moved to retrieve a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Emma took the cup and the paper and maneuvered a little bit to unfold it. True to his words, Granny’s handwriting stood out in black ink on the paper.

_He has my blessing. Just don’t let him get the best shares if he’s after the same ingredients. Do not let those pretty blue eyes trick you!_

She chuckled, folding the note again and putting it in the back pocket of her shorts. “I guess it would be nice to have someone help me with the map as I navigate the city. And carry the bags,” she ended with a teasing grin.

“I’d be happy to carry your bags and look at your maps, Swan,” he replied, his voice lowering and his teeth worrying his bottom lip on that stupid face of his.

“How do you manage to make the most trivial thing sound like _that_?” she wondered, shaking her head at him.

“It’s an art.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and offered the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, pirate.”

She - _they_ \- seemed to lose track of time, Killian showing her the local attractions while they visited shop after shop. He let her choose first whenever they were after the same thing, and only provided his opinion when Emma asked him which of the paprikas he liked better. He simply moved to stand next to her, his nose close to each of the red powders, sniffling softly. He dabbed a finger in one of them, and his tongue darted out, the tip swiping at where the spice tinted the skin red. He closed his eyes and let the flavor simmer in his mouth. Emma could only stare at him throughout the entire ordeal, incapable of tearing her eyes away from his mouth.

“This one,” he said with a hum and Emma shook herself out of her thoughts.  She glanced back at him and found him looking quizzically at her. “Everything alright, love?” he asked. She had to take a step away before she drowned in the sincere concern his eyes were conveying.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine.” She stumbled a bit as she took the tin from him and presented it to the shop assistant. “I think the trip is starting to take its toll on me,” she lied.

Something told her that Killian didn’t quite buy it. He studied her face for a moment, looking like he wanted to say something. Emma stiffened, not sure she liked the direction this might take, afraid of the words he seemed intent on speaking. But whatever it was, Killian seemed to think better of it. He offered her a small, wry smile instead. “Aye, it must be the fatigue creeping up on you. Perhaps we should head back. Give you a few hours of good rest.”

“Killian, that’s really not - If you want to stay a little longer, or if there’s anything else you want to do -” she started, feeling guilty at the way she’d reacted.

“It’s alright, love, don’t fret. I need to get started on dinner anyway. No big deal.” He shrugged as he walked past her and handed the clerk his credit card. “Spices are on me, Swan.”

/-/

Emma gave him another weak excuse the moment they returned to the inn, claiming a need to go over a few things. He gave her a faint smile in return but didn’t quite look at her directly, offering to locate Granny and deliver the ingredients on her behalf. He walked away right after he said the words, leaving Emma standing by the lounge, a sour taste in her mouth. She went to her room and tried to focus on the schedules, plans, and budgets she didn’t really need to review, but she had to keep her mind occupied on something other than the sad look Killian had given her before he’d left to find Granny.

At dinner time, she came downstairs to a feast of roasted beef and potatoes, green vegetables, homemade flatbreads, and another locally-brewed beer. It was fantastic, pretty much like all his cooking had been so far, and Granny complimented him. 

“This is impressive, boy,” she said and took one more bite of the flatbread.

“Coming from you, that does mean a lot, milady.” He tilted his head and raised his beer in salutation. “I just wish I had more time to make some of my favorites. Between the shopping, prep and travel, there’s simply not enough time.” He sighed. “Perhaps a wrap feast?” he suggested.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea! Let’s meet to plan the menu after tomorrow’s shoot, away from prying eyes.” There was a hint of a scandalous secret encounter in the way Granny proposed it and Killian was quick to give her a salacious wink in return.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he said with a grin, and then bit at his lower lip.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble one day,” Granny retorted, narrowing her eyes in a mock stern stare as she took a sip from her beer.

“It already has, on more than one occasion, but it has also given me a lot of good moments.” He smirked and Emma nearly choked at the way he could turn anything into over-the-top-innuendo.

“Oi! Do you mind? We’re trying to eat in here!” Will protested, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth, a grimace on his face. “Tone it down, mate.”

Killian laughed and lifted his hands in the air. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to offend your delicate sensibilities. Truth to be told, I didn’t even know you had them, Scarlet.”

Will cocked an eyebrow at him as he chewed on his food. It was clear from the way his expression was darkening that he was taking his time to craft the perfect comeback, but the moment he swallowed, Belle stopped him with a hand to his arm. “I think we can all agree this is the moment where we let it go?” she proposed in a honeyed tone that left no room for argument.

“Aye, I have to leave you all to prep anyway,” Killian announced, placing his napkin on the table and standing up. “I hope you enjoyed dinner, and I wish you all a lovely evening.”

“We’ll clear the table and take care of the dishes,” Tink said with a soft smile and Killian nodded at her before exiting towards the kitchen.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Emma that he’d avoided looking at her throughout the entire meal, but she pushed that thought away before she excused herself and escaped to her bedroom.

/-/

Said escape didn’t help at all. After a quick shower, Emma ended up tossing and turning in bed for hours before giving up and going downstairs in search of a cup of tea or something that could at least calm her nerves, if not help her sleep.

There were soft noises coming from the kitchen, and Emma tiptoed towards the door, quietly standing there and peeking inside. The sight sank her heart. Killian was still there, prepping for his shoot the next day. He seemed frustrated and a little in over his head as he stood there, carefully cutting vegetables. His hair was disheveled and his shoulders were slumped. She just couldn’t decide if it was a sign of exhaustion or defeat.

Emma wondered, not for the first time, why he was too stubborn to have a cooking assistant take over the tough leg work. She found she couldn't stop the words that came from her mouth. “You look like crap,” she said as she stepped into the kitchen.

He seemed taken by surprise when he lifted his head. And with a shorter distance between them, Emma could see how bloodshot his eyes were. He gave her a crooked smile that he really didn’t seem to mean.

“Why thank you, Swan,” he bit out. Then he seemed to think better of it and he sighed. “Apologies for my bad form, love. My tone was uncalled for. Between the early mornings and the late night prep, I haven’t been getting much sleep these past few weeks.”

She could sense the fatigue creeping over him, how he was trying to push himself out of it but was failing. It was clear in the way his voice faltered at the end of his sentence. All the masks he usually hid behind were gone. He appeared raw and vulnerable in front of her.

She knew she needed to walk away. There was something a little too much in staying in the same room with Killian Jones when he seemed this vulnerable. But it was because of that vulnerability that she knew she couldn’t walk away.

She sighed, grabbing an apron and tying it behind her. “Do you want me to cut those?” she asked, pointing to the carrots.

He froze a moment, averting his eyes from hers as he took a deep breath. She saw the muscles of his jaw clenching before he spoke again, still not looking at her. “I can handle it.”

Emma paused, letting the tense silence stretch between them. She wasn’t sure why she did it; she’d usually run away from situations much less tense than this one, but she held her ground and waited. He finally looked over at her with a mix of sadness, self-deprecation, and a defiance that almost made her take a step back.

“I’m sure you can,” she said carefully. “But we need your pretty face fresh in the morning. Mine, not so much.” She shrugged. “You’re the one that needs to get some beauty sleep.”

He chuckled and his shoulders relaxed. He offered her a timid smile. 

“If I don't help, you’ll be here for hours,” she continued, stating the obvious. “Just let me help, Killian.”

He hesitated for another moment before he grabbed one of his trademark custom-made black knives by the blade and handed it to her. She took the handle and grabbed one of the carrots.

They worked side-by-side in comfortable silence, just a few words exchanged between them when needed. He would point out a technique or show it to her, and Emma would catch on quickly to what was needed. He was serious at first, some residual tension from whatever caused it earlier, but as time passed, he seemed to relax. The more at ease he became, the more Emma got to witness him in his element. He moved back and forth across the kitchen with a grace she hadn’t seen in anyone - not even Granny. She could even see the hints of the swashbuckling movements that drove his fans crazy. They were more tamed, but it was clear they truly came to him naturally.

He caught her watching him at one point and raised an eyebrow before giving her a sheepish smile. Emma rolled her eyes and went back to finishing the marinade.

They were done in a little less than two hours, everything neatly packed and stacked in the fridge for morning. Killian gave her a soft look as he dried his hands on a dishcloth once he finished loading the dishwasher.

“Thank you.” He stared directly at her, and Emma had to take a deep breath before she did something stupid, like sway into his space.

“You’re welcome,” she said and took a step towards the door. “Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight, Emma,” she heard him whisper softly behind her.

/-/

The late night took a toll on her, and Emma all but threw herself at the coffee mug that Eric handed her the next morning. “I needed this today,” she admitted after the first sip, feeling the hot beverage warm her entire body and lift her spirits.

It was a short ride from the inn to the location of the cottage where they were shooting. Emma was the last to arrive and she almost felt guilty leaving the others with most of the leg work. But Tink and Belle seemed to work like a well-oiled machine together, almost communicating telepathically as they crafted several wonderful scenes for the show.

As for her side, Ashley had been showing more and more how capable she was in taking on a producer role. In this environment, and without having to deal with Zelena, Emma felt it was a good chance for her to take a step back and let Ashley hone her producing skills.  If anything, she knew she could count on Tink to help when needed. Emma had pitched the idea to Granny after they wrapped in Edinburgh and she had agreed almost immediately.

It had been working so far, Ashley teaming up with Tink and Belle with Aurora chipping in to help with makeup and wardrobe. And Emma - she finally had the luxury of not having to be the first on set on location for the first time in almost a decade.

She trailed along behind Eric, her clipboard secure in one hand while the other held onto her second cup of coffee for dear life, still trying to shake the effects of the late night - and the company - from her system. Killian and Granny were ready to start, their ingredients and preparations already spread on the tables as the two of them saw to the final touches.

“Well, looks like someone decided to finally show up,” Granny jested as she spotted Emma. She peered over the rim of her glasses as she kept working on the crust for her turkey pot pie. “You know, I think I’m going to have to strip Aurora of the title of _Sleeping Beauty_ and hand it over to you.”

“It was a late night,” Emma said as she went to one of the tables and set down her clipboard and coffee. “I ran into Killian in the kitchen and I helped him finish his prep before finally getting some sleep.”

If she’d been a little more awake, Emma would have noticed the silence that followed her words. Instead she was caught completely off-guard when she turned around to meet Killian’s entire crew gaping as they looked from him to her. She tilted her head in confusion, her eyes going from Granny’s amused expression to Killian’s sheepish smile.

“You let her prep?” Tink asked, her voice strained.

Killian met Tink’s eyes and swallowed. “Aye,” he said with a stiff nod.

Tink cocked an eyebrow at him, while Eric, Will and Robin exchanged looks before turning back to Killian. Even Belle, always focused on the task at hand, seemed to be gobsmacked by the situation.

Emma cleared her throat, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. “Relax guys, I didn’t sabotage his cooking if that is what you’re worried about,” she said with a little more force than intended. She couldn’t believe his team would think she’d stoop that low. She wasn’t a cutthroat bitch. Well, she was, but not about this.

“Oh no. Not at all,” Belle said, taking a few steps in her direction. “You just caught us by surprise.”

“Yeah, it was just that.” Tink still had her eyes fixated on Killian. Whatever she was silently telling him, it wasn’t something Killian wanted to hear, if the shuffling of his feet and the way he clenched his jaw were any indication.

_What is going on here_ , she thought _._

“Well, I’m sure he’ll still have his nimble fingers.”  She waved her own in emphasis, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry about it.”

Tink finally tore her eyes away from Killian and gave Emma a small smile, trying her best to make it seem that whatever had happened just now between Killian and her team was over.

But if the heated conversation Tink and Killian were having at one of the breaks was any indication, it seemed far from over. Tink was gesturing wildly while Killian ran his hand through his hair, frustration radiating from him.

“Guys?” she called. Both of them quickly turned, meeting her with plastered-on smiles. “Is everything ok?”

Killian looked at her, his false cheer not fooling Emma for one minute. “Everything is fine, Swan. I’m fine.” His last words were accompanied by a pointed look at Tink.

Tink’s smile was as fake as Killian’s. “Yeah, everything is peachy.”

She realized that for the first time since she met them, they were lying. _They were lying to her._

She nodded, turning around and walking away from them, unable to avoid the aching feeling inside of her. However, it was soon replaced by a fluttering in her stomach when she found a bear claw sitting by a steaming cup of coffee, a small note placed underneath the mug. “ _Swan, Thank you for your help last night. I could not have done it without you._ ”


	5. Week #4: Stratford-upon-Avon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the lovely art that fairytalesandtimetravel made for this chapter!

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/culturalbug/media/Stratford.png.html)

** Week #4: Stratford-upon-Avon  **

The ride to the next location was a confusing one. It wasn’t uncomfortable, per se. Everyone was treating each other nicely, but Emma could tell there was something simmering underneath, especially between Tink and Killian. They didn’t seem to talk much, and while they definitely put on a good show for the rest when they did, there was a tension in the set of Killian’s shoulders and Tink’s smile was a little tight.

As they neared their next stop, however, Emma couldn’t care less about the family feud that was clearly brewing. Her attention was set on taking in every last detail about the cozy, little town they were about to enter.

“She’s a bit of a Shakespeare fan,” Ashley said to Belle as Emma plastered her nose to the window. “She’d been waiting for this part of the trip _forever_.”

“Oh, that is great to hear!” Tink said and gave her a sincere smile. “I’m sure you’re going to have a great time touring the town.”

“Yeah, I’ll try to see as much as I can while I’m shopping for Granny,” Emma said, sighing as her fingers traced along the window. She was eager to be out on the street and seeing it all.

“Nonsense!” Aurora replied and Emma turned to look at her. “You’re not doing the shopping today. _I_ am.” 

“Aurora, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” Emma started, but Aurora cut her off with a wave.

“It’s been decided. I volunteered and Granny said yes. You’re taking the day off.” She cocked an eyebrow when Emma opened her mouth to argue. “ _End of story_.”

/-/

She was thankful for the gift she’d received. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d taken a day off while they were in production, nevermind while they were on the road. There was always something to review, to double check, to prepare. It felt weird, letting go of control and learning to trust others with things she’d only trusted herself to do before.

It was also _liberating_.

Yes, there was that nagging voice at the very back of her mind. It was one that kept telling her that if she was no longer needed - _absolutely needed_ \- they were bound to leave her behind. Because while they may need her, they’d never just want her. Emma shook her head and pushed those thoughts aside. She grabbed her map and made her way towards the front door of the inn, determined to enjoy the day.

She ran into Killian in the lobby, his hair still damp from the shower, dressed in jeans and black t-shirt.

“Getting ready for your shopping?” she asked, rocking on the balls of her feet from her excitement. “Please be nice to Aurora. And don’t flirt too much with her. She will flirt back and then feel guilty about Philip back home.” She pointed a finger at his chest in emphasis. “So, don’t.”

Killian grinned. “Actually, Aurora left with Eric about twenty minutes ago. She may have heard he’s had a long standing crush on one of the local suppliers - a lovely redhead by the name of Ariel who procures us the best fish. She seemed quite adamant that she help him with that.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course she did. She’s determined to fix someone’s love life around here.”

“I take that this is not an uncommon occurrence for her?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“You have no idea,” Emma grumbled.

“ _Do tell, Swan_ ,” he teased.

”Nope,” she replied, purposely popping the p as she stepped towards the door. “Besides, I’m not wasting any precious time recounting some of my most embarrassing moments while Shakespeare awaits me.”

Killian stepped forward and leaned against the door jamb. “You know, I spent a lot of time here as a lad,” he said.

“Did you?” Emma asked, giving a small shrug and hoping she didn’t sound eager.

“My mum was a bit of a Shakespeare fan too. Brought Liam and me several times to tour the town.” He reached up and scratched behind his ear. “I could - I mean, if you want - I would love to -” He trailed off, suddenly very interested in his shoes.

“I’d like that,” Emma said, giving him a tentative smile as he glanced over at her. The smile he gave her in return was one she knew was going to make it very hard to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay.

/-/

It turned out that Killian Jones not only knew his shit when it came to cooking, but also knew a thing or two about the Bard. He took Emma to all the main tourist attractions, filling her in on what he had learned from all the times he’d been there with his mother, plus added anecdotes of his getting into trouble with Liam in their younger years. By the end of his last story, Emma was laughing so hard, she had tears streaming down her face.

“Glad to see you’re having a good time,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving into a wicked smile that looked almost too good on him. She gave him a soft smile in return, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t recall the last time I laughed like this, to be honest,” she admitted, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. The look he gave her felt like the warmth of a sunny afternoon. He tilted his head, giving a small bow as he grabbed her hand. He then took it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

She wanted to scoff at him, to roll her eyes and remove her hand, telling him he was hopeless flirt who was being an idiot. Yet all Emma could do in that moment was stare at him, mesmerized, holding her breath as she focused on how he was looking at her. A movement and a noise off to their side caught his attention, and he suddenly seemed to realize they were out in the open, and at the mercy of the public eye. He let go of her hand, taking a step back and reaching into the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve his sunglasses and a battered cap.

“I’m sorry, Swan. I think it’s best if I lay low a little,” he said apologetically. “Last thing I’d want is a picture of us plastered all over the tabloids tomorrow.”

It shouldn’t have stung. _It shouldn’t._ He was right. The last thing they needed was the media creating a whole lot of bullshit out of an innocent afternoon. Emma knew how these things worked. She knew it was for the best. _But still_.

It hurt.

“Yeah, you’re right. You have a reputation to uphold, Jones,” she said, her tone harsher than she’d intended. “It certainly would be a downgrade from the playmate of the year. Or was it the lead Victoria Secret’s Angel?” She tried to move past him, not wanting him see the blush that tinted her cheeks, but his hand held her wrist and he pulled her closer to him. She could feel the intensity of his stare even through the dark lenses of his sunglasses.

“None of them could hold a candle to you, lass,” he said, his voice hoarse and his thumb rubbing circles against the pulse point on her wrist. Emma wanted to pretend his words hadn’t affected her, that the goosebumps rising all her skin were because of a sudden, chilly breeze that had settled over the afternoon. She wanted to pretend that the feel of his thumb against her wrist was not tugging at her belly in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She wanted to pretend so many things because Emma Swan was a great pretender: fake it until you make it, fake it until the wounds no longer bleed and all that is left are the scars that remind you to never trust again, to never let yourself go. And yet, as his thumb kept caressing the soft skin on her wrist, she couldn’t bring herself to pretend.

It was Killian who broke the contact, taking a step back and reaching to scratch behind his ear in that nervous twitch of his she’d come to appreciate in the past weeks.

“Perhaps it's time for a snack?” he asked nonchalantly. “I know a great market where we can get food.” He was giving her an opportunity, and Emma took it.

“Food sounds good. I’m starving.”

He took her hand at some point during the tour around the market stands, a means to avoid losing her in the afternoon crowds. She interlaced her fingers with his absentmindedly as they walked side by side, admiring the crafts and marveling at each bite he fed her from the different stands. It was a festival of flavors, enhanced only by his voice describing what made every taste unique.

“It’s only street food, Killian. You make it sound like is _haute cuisine_ ,” she teased him, the taste of her last bite of shredded pork sandwich still lingering on her tongue.

He shook his head at her and when he spoke, there was such passion behind his words that it took her breath away. “Even the simplest, most basic food can be a wonder to taste. It’s all about the quality of the ingredients and the technique. It’s about how much of yourself you pour into it to show your care for others, it’s -”

“It’s all about the _experience_ , right?” she finished for him, arching an eyebrow as she fed his trademark line back at him.

She could see his eyebrows rising up above his glasses as he took one step closer to her, his hand still holding hers. “Aye, it’s all about that,” he said in a husky voice, and for a moment she wished he wasn’t wearing those stupid sunglasses. She wished she could get lost in the blue of his stare in an afternoon that was absolutely perfect.

A vibration from the pocket of his jeans broke the moment and Killian let go of her hand as he reached for his phone, giving it a pensive look.

“Granny says we need to be back at the inn by 7 sharp if we want to eat. Otherwise, we’ll be on our own,” he told her as his fingers skimmed along the screen of his phone. “There’s another message - from Eric. He’s done with shopping and everything I need is already back at the inn.”

Emma hesitated. She didn’t want to go back. She wasn’t done touring the city.

_She wasn’t done spending time with Killian Jones._

The last thought seemed to sober her up, and she shook her head to clear the conflicting thoughts. “You know,” she said, “I think I’m going to stay a little while longer. I can pick out more food in here if I get hungry.” She looked away as she shuffled her feet. “But you can head back if you want. I’ll be alright on my own.” She hated the way her voice sounded so small and insecure.

“Swan,” he murmured, the softness in his tone pulling her to him. She lifted her head to find Killian had removed his sunglasses and was looking at her intently.

“I’m not hungry. I can skip a meal,” he said, appearing to opt for a safe reply, but Emma could read between those lines.

“But your prep work -” she started.

He shrugged his shoulders, cutting her off.

“I’ll prep later tonight. Don't fret over that. It’s not every day that I get to tour one of my favorite towns with a lovely lass.” He reached for her hand, stopping just a breath away from touching her, leaving the final step to her. “Shall we?”

Her lips curved into a smile as she intertwined their fingers. “Let’s go.”

/-/

It wasn’t too late when they finally made it back to the inn, but considering the early call time they had in the morning, everyone had already gone up to their rooms. Granny had left two pieces of pie wrapped on the counter.

“I can put yours on a plate and you can take it to your room,” Killian offered. “I’ll probably eat mine after I’m done prepping. A treat for a job well done.”

Emma weighed her options for a moment. She knew helping him had caused an issue between him and Tink, and she didn’t want to create any more problems. And yet... “Do you want me to help?” she blurted out, not giving herself time to second-guess.

His eyes lit up with something akin to adoration as he handed her an apron. “Aye, that’d be lovely,” he replied as he set to wash his hands and start putting together ingredients.

They worked side by side even more smoothly than the last time, Emma guessing Killian’s preferences before he even could utter the words. She admired his custom-made knife set, commiserating that Granny never let her use hers. He took his time showing her a cutting technique, standing close behind her, his fingers curling over hers as he directed the blade over the vegetables. His lips almost brushed her ear as he whispered encouraging instructions. The air thickened around them and Killian had to clear his throat when he took a step away from her. He was silent for a few moments as he resumed his place beside her. When he spoke again, he seemed hesitant.

“May I ask you a question?”

She didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the cutting board in front of her as she answered. “You can, but I might not answer.”

“Fair enough,” he said softly before he took a deep breath. Whatever it was, it seemed important and Emma’s heartbeat quickened. “Granny and I are working on a special surprise for our last show. I can’t tell you exactly what because it’s a surprise - something involving everyone’s loved ones,” he started reluctantly. “But when she gave me the list of people we might want for her side of the show, I - well, there was nothing - _no one_ \- with your name on it.”

_Oh_.

She could feel his eyes on her but she continued to stare at the knife in her hands. She took a moment to answer, reining in her emotions and still not meeting his eyes. “I don’t have a family,” she stated, her voice stable until the last word.

“Oh, Swan.” He exhaled, shame and sorrow in his voice. “I’m sorry I asked. I shouldn’t have pried. I should have taken what Granny gave me and -”

Her turning her head to meet his eyes seemed to silence him, and Emma pushed through the pain that always came with these memories to deliver her next words. “It’s ok, Killian. You didn’t know.”

The ache lingered, like a phantom pain of a limb long gone, that had been gone for centuries. Yet, at the same time, the wound still felt fresh. However, his words seemed to finally vanquish those feelings to a far away realm where they couldn't reach her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly, setting his knife on the table.

She shrugged, letting the memories take over. “There isn’t much to tell. Abandoned as a baby, raised in the foster system - bouncing from one place to the other, runaway at sixteen. I got into all sorts of trouble before I got my shit together, which was pretty much the time I started to work for Granny. She and Ruby - and this show and its crew - are all the family I know. They are all the family I need,” she finished in a small voice.

Despite her words, though, Emma was beginning to realize that somewhere in the last few weeks, the truth she once held dearly to her heart - that she didn't need anything other than Granny, Ruby and the show - seemed to have cracked. Something else had begun to creep in. Something she desperately wanted to refuse to acknowledge.

Killian looked crestfallen for a moment, his jaw clenching as if he were using the physical force of it to keep himself from speaking. When he finally said something, Emma was positive it wasn’t what he originally wanted to say. “That’s - sad to hear,” he stated without pity, simply expressing his sorrow in an emphatic way. But then his eyes bored into hers and Emma braced herself for something a lot more dangerous than his commiseration over her past. “Do you ever want more?”

Yes, dangerous waters indeed. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to drown in him and wouldn’t come out unscathed. “Why?” she almost spat out the word, averting her eyes as she grabbed her knife again. “Nothing good ever came from wanting more.” She resumed chopping, determined not to look back at the sadness she was sure she’d find lingering in his eyes. “Life isn't a fairytale.”

All Emma heard was a sigh escaping his lips before the sound of his knife cutting vegetables filled the air.

He didn’t bring up the subject again. Not until the prep was done, the dishes washed, and the pie eaten between soft smiles and silence. Not until he walked her to the door of her room. He stepped towards her then, almost cornering her against the door before he spoke. “Perhaps life is a fairytale,” he said, the words said low against her cheek. “And all you need to do is take a leap of faith.” He lifted his hand and for a moment it looked like he was going to trace his finger over the apple of her cheek, but he seemed to rethink it as he took a step away from her and ran his hand through his hair. “Goodnight, Emma.”

/-/

Whatever it was that had transpired between them was still lingering the next day, Killian’s usual barbs and innuendos replaced by shy smiles and silent, drawn-out glances. Emma did her best to ignore the change in his behavior, focusing instead on Ashley shadowing her, taking time to teach her and provide as much coaching and guidance as she could. She felt proud, remembering the days when Granny’s original producer, Mary Margaret, had taken Emma under her wing and taught her everything she’d need. She left Emma in charge when she left the show, her husband and her moving to a sleepy town in Maine to lead a quieter life. Emma would forever be thankful for the opportunity she was given, and she had vowed to pay it forward.

If Killian noticed her efforts to pretend everything was business as usual, he simply decided not to address it. He continued exchanging barbs back and forth with Granny as they both made their favorite “simple” dishes for their comfort food special: shredded pork loin subs with tzatziki for Granny and Killian’s already famous curried lobster mini quiches.

“Everything worth eating can be made into a sandwich, boy,” she’d said when he’d cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the smoked pork loin she was shredding.

“Everything worth eating can be made into a quiche, milady,” he’d retorted as his fingers worked the fluted edges on the crust as if he were performing some sort of intricate magic. Belle had him repeat it over and over, Will and Sean capturing as many close ups of the action as possible.

“That is going to look great in the episode,” Ashley commented, making a note to look for it in the dailies.

“Yeah, those nimble fingers everyone loves to flail about. Honestly, I don’t know what the big deal is,” Emma teased, despite having a little bit of trouble tearing her own eyes away from said movements. When she finally did, Ashley was giving her a knowing smile.

“Right,” was all that Ashley said with a half-shrug of her shoulder, her entire stance telling Emma she wasn’t fooled.

“Come on, Ashley, you know me better than that,” Emma protested. “I don’t fall for that kind of bullshit.”

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure the superb caffeine he provides you each morning is a huge factor in all of this,” Ashley said, starting to count on her fingers. “And the excellent food he feeds you. And how he plays personal tour guide for you. And the way he carries your bags when you go shopping together.” She grinned. “I can go on.”

“You’re blowing all of this way out of proportion. He’s just being friendly towards his coworkers.”

“Robin, Eric, and Will taking Sean out for a beer is being friendly. Belle and Tink showing Aurora and me the best sales in town is being friendly. Killian Jones following you around with puppy dog eyes and jumping through all sort of hoops for you is definitely _beyond_ friendly.”

“Clearly you’ve been hanging around with Aurora too much. You sound just like her,” Emma deflected, racking her brain for any excuse to make Ashley drop the damn subject.

“You can ask around, Emma. I’m not the only one who sounds like Aurora when it comes to you two. _Everyone_ can see it.”

“See what?” Sean asked as he came by with his camera in hand, leaning in to steal a soft kiss from Ashley.

“Emma claims that Killian is just being friendly towards her. Just as any coworker would be.” Sean burst out laughing.

“Oh come on, Sean! Not you too!” Emma protested.

“Emma, there’s not wanting to see things. There’s denial. There’s blatant delusion. And then there’s _you_.” Sean waggled his eyebrows at her, a goofy grin spread across his face. “That poor man is so gone for you that the only reason he hasn’t messed up a shot when you’re around is because he’s a goddamn natural when it comes to cooking.”

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest, a self-satisfied smile on her lips. “Told ya.”

“Ugh, get back to work. Both of you, before you piss me off and I fire you,” Emma threatened, but they both knew she was all bark and no bite.

“As if Granny would let you,” Ashley mocked before she grabbed Sean’s hand and they left Emma to her own thoughts.

/-/

She purposely chose to hang out in her room until dinner, avoiding any situations that would give the wrong impression. But Tink banged on her door and dragged her down to the lounge for drinks with the girls. She could have refused, but in all honesty Emma had discovered she enjoyed Belle and Tink’s company. She’d always been close with Aurora and Ashley, and having two more women join them for drinks at the end of the day was welcome.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a good time with just two beers and good conversation, and a warm buzz accompanied her through the rest of the evening. It was only fueled further by the exquisite food Killian made, an assortment of grilled fish with citrus sauces, with asparagus and grated vegetables on the side. By the time they made it to dessert, Granny’s famous peach pie, Emma was smiling from ear to ear. She kept smiling as everyone went to bed and she stayed in the lounge, her schedule and plans for the upcoming season spread around the coffee table while her laptop was balanced precariously on her lap. She hummed as she went over some of the paperwork she needed to email to the US network executives, going over and over details she could recite by memory.

“I thought you could use this.” Killian interrupted, and she lifted her head to find him standing by the kitchen door, two mugs and a plate in his hands. He walked towards the couch where she was sitting, placing the mugs and plate on the table, careful not to disturb her papers. 

“I thought everyone would have gone to bed by now,” she said as she peeked at the mug. A smile came to her lips as she smelled hot chocolate.

“I’ve just finished cleaning up the kitchen and packing my knives, and the _Jolly Roger,_ for our departure tomorrow.” Killian shuffled his feet for a moment before he tilted his head and pointed towards the empty space on the couch next to her. “May I?” he asked and pulled a worn paperback book from his back pocket.

She nodded, scooting to the end of the couch to give him room. “Sure. I’m just going over a few things.”

“I promise I won’t interrupt,” he said as he sat and handed her one of the mugs. He held the book in his hand and grabbed the other mug. “I wanted to do a bit of reading before retiring to bed.”

“Well, you brought hot chocolate and cookies, Jones. Of course you can stay,” Emma said, keeping her focus on her laptop screen in an effort to avoid looking at him. But from the corner of her eye, she could see him stretch out and settle back into the corner of the couch, opening his book to start reading.

They remained in comfortable silence, her working and him reading, until her exhaustion seemed to catch up with her. Between the warmth of the hot chocolate, the cookies, and the comfort of someone next to her, Emma felt the exhaustion creeping into her. By the time she was done with her final review, the email sent, her laptop closed and the papers stashed, she could barely keep her eyes open.

“I’m just going to rest here for a minute,” she said, closing her eyes and laying her head back on the couch.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she felt a gentle tug on her sleeve. “Swan,” his voice came like a caress. “Lass, you’ve fallen asleep.”

She tried to pry her eyes open, but her eyelids felt too heavy and she didn’t want to move. “Leave me here, I’ll be fine,” she replied, ready to let sleep claim her again on the couch.

“Nonsense, you need proper rest. You’re exhausted.”

She still didn’t open her eyes, but she could hear the sound of shuffling.

Suddenly, she felt strong arms lift her and her head wobbled a moment before it found a new solid surface to lean on. Through her haze, she realized her head was now resting against Killian’s collarbone and shoulder, her hand pressed to his chest as he carried her to her room.

He laid her on the bed carefully, taking off her boots and pulling down the covers to help her get in before he pulled them up, tucking her in. His hand lingered on her hair for a few moments, and the last thing that Emma remembered was hearing him sigh and whisper, “Sleep well, darling.”

When she woke up the next morning, she wasn’t sure if the soft kiss to her forehead had been a dream or not.


	6. Week #5: Bristol

** Week #5: Bristol  **

The short ride to Bristol seemed to put everyone in a good mood, the buses filled with laughter and conversation as they planned what they could do in their free time. The weather had been unusually warm, with the end of October feeling more like spring than late fall. Emma couldn’t complain as she contemplated the scenery through the window, her fingers tracing a pattern on the glass. When they finally stopped and Tink announced they had reached their destination, Emma was a little confused. They’d arrived at a stunning cottage by the sea. Its view was magnificent, and it had a beautiful wooden porch on the side that was fit for a romantic dinner. It was all around lovely, but it was too small to accommodate all of them.

“This is where we’re staying?” she asked, her eyes looking for Tink.

“Goodness, no, this is our location for tomorrow,” Tink said. “But since it was on our way, I wanted you to see it.”

“Well, I’m glad you were able to convince whoever owns it to let you rent it, because it is absolutely charming.” Emma took a few steps towards the entrance, her fingers softly caressing the wood of the rail.

“Well, thank you for the compliment, but I prefer dashing,” Killian said as he walked past her and dropped his duffel bag by the door. He turned around and smirked at her. “Welcome to my humble abode, Swan.”

“This is yours?” she choked.

“Aye. I have a place in Notting Hill, nearby Portobello market, for whenever I need to spend time in London for the show.” He took the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “But for all intents and purposes, this is my home.” He opened the door and tossed the duffel inside. “We will be shooting by the beach tomorrow, but do you want the tour?”

There was such eagerness in his voice and hope in his eyes that Emma felt a tingling sensation on her skin. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to tear herself away from the place if she set foot in it.

“I - I think we better head to the inn. We have a lot to do before we start tomorrow,” she deflected, averting her eyes and looking back towards where the buses were waiting for them.

Killian masked his feelings pretty quickly, Emma only catching a glimpse of sadness in his eyes before he gave her a smile. “I’ll be staying here tonight, but Tink knows how to reach me if needed.” He took one step towards her, as if he wanted to walk her back to the buses before he thought better of it and took another step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow, Killian,” she replied, turning around and walking back towards the bus. As she stepped on the bus, she pretended not to notice Granny’s disappointed stare.

/-/

When Emma woke up the next morning, it was to a series of bangs on her door and Aurora’s chipper cry of _“Wake up, birthday girl!”_  She sighed, dragging herself out of the bed. She caught sight of the alarm clock and cursed to herself at how early it was. “It’s too early for this,” she whined as she opened the door.

Aurora was already dressed in a frilly purple top and skinny jeans. “It’s never too early to start birthday celebrations,” she said as she pulled out a plastic headband with a tiny red bow and two hearts on it and put it on Emma’s head. “And before you say anything, you will wear it all day.” She glared a moment to emphasize her words before her expression morphed into a bright, sincere smile. “Happy birthday, Emma,” she said as she reached to hug her.

The headband was only the beginning. A special breakfast was waiting when she came down the stairs twenty minutes later. Granny had made her all her favorite dishes, and Eric had brought her the best hot chocolate in town. There was a wrapped gift waiting for her with a card signed by all the crew, and Emma opened it to find a lovely green blouse, definitely the handiwork of Tink’s shopping. She was given warm hugs and heartfelt birthday wishes and a special hug from Granny, who did little to hide the tears in her eyes. If Emma felt a sudden pang of regret that Killian was missing from the table, she made sure to pretend it didn’t bother her.

_It did._

After breakfast, Tink and Ashley hurried everyone out the door, eager to start the day.

“What’s the rush?” Emma asked. “We have all day to do this; we can take our time,” she said as she looked over her schedule for the day. “Besides, it’s not like Killian is going to kick us out of his house if we don’t finish on time.”

“One, you’re kidding yourself if you think he’ll even let us into the house in the first place,” Tink said as she motioned for Emma to hop on the bus. “We’re shooting outside on the beach, and we have strict instructions - under contract I might add - to keep our _mess_ on the beach.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said, furrowing her brow.

“Oh, I wish. Trust me, _I wish_ ,” Tink said before she snapped her fingers at Ashley, who produced a sheet of paper and handed it to Emma. “Two,” Tink continued with her enumeration, “the shooting schedule has changed. We’re going to try to wrap it up earlier, if possible.”

“Really?” Emma asked in disbelief. “ _Why_?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Ashley said, pointedly avoiding Emma’s eyes by staring at her phone. “We just wanted to have a little more time off to hit a couple of bars in town, that’s all.”

Emma could tell they were keeping something from her. Aurora and Ashley were exchanging too many cryptic glances, and Granny was far too silent about a sudden change in schedules, despite knowing full well it meant she’d have to execute every single thing flawlessly. Something was going on and Emma was determined to find out what it was.

/-/

Her suspicions were only fueled when they reached Killian’s cottage and she could see that Robin, Belle, and Will had been there for a while setting everything up. Even Killian was chipping in and helping Will with the cameras.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” she inquired as she made her way towards him.

“Swan!” He lifted his head and gave her a smile that creased his eyes. “Happy birthday!” he offered with a small bow of his head.

“Yeah, yeah.” She waived her hand, trying to downplay the birthday greetings, her mind still stuck on the conspiratorial glances she’d seen between Aurora, Ashley, and Tink. She crooked her finger and motioned for him to come to where she was standing. He obliged, adding a little swagger to his step as he approached.

“Tell me something, Jones,” she murmured, her finger tracing a down his chest. She heard his sharp intake of breath at the contact. “What’s with everyone today?”

He swallowed, his eyes focused on the movement of her finger before he looked up into her eyes. “I can explain?” he offered feebly, almost wincing at the words.

“Please do,” she cooed. “Please explain why everyone is determined to run like hell so we can finish early today.” She tilted her head, something in the way he was shifting nervously and reaching to scratch behind his ear giving her a feeling of dread. They’d been on the road for weeks, and she knew he had a reputation. She hadn’t seen him pick up any women while they were on the road, but it kind of made sense that he’d benefit from a stay in his own house. Away from prying eyes, he’d be able to spend his nights with company.

Suddenly she wondered if that was what he’d done the night before. If he’d gone out and brought a woman back to his place to engage himself in some _enjoyable activities_ , as she’d heard him call it time and again. “Oh my god,” she said, unable to stop the words as she felt sick to her stomach. “You’re planning to go hook up with someone, aren’t you?”

“Wait. _What_?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. She could see when the meaning of her words sank in, his eyes widening in horror. “Emma, no. You’ve the wrong idea of it,” he objected, running a hand through his hair. “Today is your birthday,” he ventured.

“So? What difference does it make?” She shrugged, not understanding what that had to do with anything.

“Aye, I thought,” he started and then seemed to stop to think his words through. He took a deep breath and looked directly at her. “I wanted to make dinner for you. Tonight. Here, as - as a gift.” He scratched behind his ear again, glancing away and looking at the horizon. “That’s why I asked Granny and Tink if it would be possible for us to finish a little earlier than planned, and they thought we could do it. Give everyone the afternoon off once we’re done shooting - and a chance to enjoy a meal on the beach. Give _me_ some time to finish the menu for tonight.”

_Oh_.

She hesitated. “So everyone -”

“Is willing to work their arses off so I could make you the best birthday dinner possible, Swan.”

She looked at him a moment, assessing. There was something hidden in his words that made her take a step back, suddenly feeling his proximity was much too close to handle.

“Killian,” she cautioned, not sure what else to say.

“Look, Tink knows how to pick out clothes, and Belle can gift you the best book you never knew you wanted to read.” He almost sounded like he was babbling. “I - I cook. It’s what I do. It’s what I know. It’s just dinner,” he finished lamely, trying to downplay the gesture but somehow she knew it wasn’t just dinner. “Tonight, seven pm?” he asked with an encouraging smile.

She should say no. She should turn around and leave him with the offer and the puppy dog eyes that were a clear indication this was more than _just dinner_. She should run.

“Should I bring something?”

_Damn, Emma._

His answering smile was going to be her undoing one of these days. “It’s your birthday, Emma, only your presence is required.”

“Alright.” She cleared her throat. “If we’re going to finish in time, we need to stop slacking and start shooting. _Now_.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” he jested.

/-/

It was amazing how smoothly things ran when the universe was out to get her. Everyone knew it was hard to keep on time with shooting schedules. There were always unexpected delays. _Always_. A light wouldn’t function, a shot didn’t turn out right and had to be redone, the soufflés wouldn’t rise so you had to do it all again.

But not today.

Aurora had never been more on her game, running around and making sure every single part of Granny’s dish came out perfect. Robin, who was usually a quiet man who kept to himself unless he was jesting with the crew, was barking orders left and right to ensure nothing malfunctioned. Will was a hound dog chasing every perfect frame over and over, nearly risking a fall and breaking his neck rather than interrupting a planned sequence. Even Killian let Eric jump in and help with some basic prep in order to quicken the process.

And Granny? She just stood there commanding the whole thing, taking only a second to give Emma a knowing smile.

And they did it. They were done, packed, and sitting by the beach enjoying the late lunch long before they planned. Now all there was left to do was head back into town and kill time until they’d leave for Oxford the next day.

And Emma needed to get ready for her dinner. She caught up with Killian when he excused himself to head back to his house.

“Listen,” she started as she walked with him towards the cottage. “You don’t have to cook for me. You’re probably exhausted and tired of doing this already...” she trailed off, standing by his porch and poking the toe of her shoe against the first step.

“Are you having cold feet, Swan?”

It was the hint of a challenge in his voice that caused Emma to shake the last of her doubts. If he was willing to play with fire, then so was she.

“No, not at all.” She gave him a flirty smile, biting her lower lip.

“Good, see you tonight.” He popped the last t, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

/-/

Tink nailed it with her gift, Emma thought as she stood in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches on the waves in her hair. She matched the green top with a pair of black pants and low heeled boots. She glanced in the mirror and nodded to herself. She looked good but was still comfortable. Since her usual red leather jacket was not the best match for the green, Emma had gone into town and splurged on a new black leather jacket, not even stopping to think how it matched the one Killian usually wore. It was just a coincidence, really.

Grabbing the jacket, Emma headed downstairs. It wasn’t a long walk to Killian’s house, and she figured she could walk there instead of calling a cab or having one of the buses drop her.

She was hoping not to run into anyone as she left, but her luck wasn’t that good. The rest of the crew was hanging out downstairs, getting ready to hit the local night-life. They all turned around and looked at her as she came down the stairs, all wearing a variety of expressions that went from Aurora’s hopeful smile to Will’s raised eyebrow and crooked smirk.

“I’ll meet you guys at the bar later,” Emma said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

“D-” Will started.

“Take your time, darling,” Robin said, cutting him off before he voiced whatever dirty parting he planned to offer.

Emma nodded and passed through the door, happy to escape their stares and knowing smiles.

She didn’t exactly run towards Killian’s place, but she kept a strong pace as she walked through town to the outskirts. The sun was setting on the horizon and when she finally spotted the cottage, the view beyond it was breathtaking. The dusk cast a reddish aura, making the cottage look warm and inviting. The light from inside as well as the glow of the sunset on the porch only added to her feeling of comfort and familiarity. Emma tried to deny it, but with every step she took towards that little house she felt she was getting closer to what she had always wanted but never dared to hope for. She shook the thoughts away, her heart beating frantically as she reached the porch and climbed the steps. Her hand was shaking slightly as she knocked softly on the door.

She didn’t have to wait long, the door opening only a few moments later, Killian standing at the entrance with a wide smile on his face, the sunset light casting on him in a breathtaking way.

“Good evening, Swan.”

“I hope I’m not too late. I decided to walk and I wasn’t sure -” she stammered, but Killian silenced her with a wave of his hand.

“You’re right on time. Besides, the guest of honor is never late,” he said as he took a step to the side. “Please come in.”

She entered, goosebumps rising on her skin as she heard him close the door behind her. Then he was at her side, his hands resting softly on her shoulders. “May I take your coat?” he asked, whispering near her ear but his words reverberating through her entire body.

She nodded before she let him slowly peel the jacket from her shoulders, not trusting her own voice at that moment. When she was free from the garment, Emma took her time admiring his house. It was a simple place, neatly ordered and soaked in beautiful, natural sunset light. There was a small open kitchen - equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and a small, red, retro-style fridge - and a table with two seats nearby. Behind that there was a series of white, wooden cabinets. A king-size bed at the end of the room, underneath a large window with a view of the sea, and a futon couch completed the furnishings. Emma was surprised by the light colors and simple decor. Weeks ago, she wouldn’t have pegged this as the style of the _Pirate Chef_ , but all she could think now was how much it fit Killian Jones.

“I could give you the full tour if you want, but I’m afraid there isn’t more than this. What you see is what you get,” he said with a nervous smile, walking until he was standing in front of her, his eyes scanning his place.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s ever true when it comes to you,” she said softly, the words escaping her lips before she realized what she was saying.

His eyes searched hers for a brief moment that seemed to stretch, his hand twitching at his side as if he wanted to reach for her. Emma waited, not sure how to react at the feelings that were surging through her. She fought against the need to reach for him, to use her fingers to move away that lock of hair from his forehead, to soothe the creases at his temple. One, two heartbeats later, he seemed to bring himself out of the haze they both were in.

“Where are my manners,” he said. “Please have a seat, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

“You didn’t have to do any of this,” she replied, her eyes darting towards the small kitchen counter. There were a few clues as to what he made here and there, and she was eager to see what it was, but she knew from years spent with Granny that you had to allow the cook to reveal his creations at its own pace.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, the words lingering in the air as his hand reached for hers. She let him guide her towards the chair and sat. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss there, his scruff making her skin tingle. He cleared his throat, as if he’d been affected by the gesture as well. “I have to confess, I’m a little nervous about the menu...” he trailed off as he went to the counter and picked up two small plates.

“The _Pirate Chef_ is nervous about his cooking? That’s got to be a first,” she teased, trying very hard not to peek at the food. She focused instead on the way his black button-up shirt fitted him, highlighting his shoulder blades as he bent to pick up the food. A sudden rush of feelings she didn’t want to face - need, _want_ , longing - passed through her, and in an attempt to shake them off, her eyes darted to his arms. He had rolled up his sleeves, and the sight of his bare forearms, dusted only by a layer of hair, was not helping matters. Not to mention the man himself had turned around and was looking even better from the front than he was from the back. And he looked _damn good_ from the back.

“Not a first,” he countered, placing one plate in front of her and the other across the table before moving towards the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of wine and a beer, holding them both up to ask which she preferred. She pointed to the red wine and he quickly put the beer back in the fridge, removed the cork from the bottle - giving her another view of how good those forearms looked when put to use - and poured her a glass. “But I have to say, it hasn’t happened in a long time,” he continued as he sat in front of her, his voice small and foreign, as if he were far in the distance, lost in a memory he didn’t want to relive. He shook himself and gave her a soft, genuine smile. “My apologies, I didn’t meant to cast a pall on your day.” Killian raised his glass to toast hers. “Happy birthday, Swan.”

She clinked her glass with his and took a sip. It was exquisite, and its taste lingered in her mouth as she finally devoted attention to the plate in front of her. Of course Killian Jones wouldn’t deliver just a one-course meal. No, he included appetizers - a simple dish of thin buffalo mozzarella slices layered with tomato slices and a basil oil garnish on top. The first bite was so delicious that Emma had to close her eyes as the sensations exploded in her mouth. Just as she had all those weeks ago when she first met him, when she opened her eyes it was to find his hooded eyes fixated intently on hers.

“I take it the dish is in the lady’s favor?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulder, his mouth curving in a one-side smile, his voice reverberating through the small space with a lot more sensuality than Emma was finding herself strong enough to handle.

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lower lip before letting her tongue trace it to taste the oil that was still lingering there. It was his turn to close his eyes for a moment, and Emma found rather than feeling smug at the fact she was clearly affecting him, she was elated. When he finally opened his eyes, there was something dark simmering there, and it pulled at Emma in a way that hadn’t happened in years. Killian averted his gaze, his eyes focusing on his own dish as he took a bite. Emma’s throat went dry at the way his lips closed around his fork, and she had to reach for her wine. He seemed to know the effect he was having on her, as he took his time removing the fork, his smoldering eyes never leaving hers as he did. Emma swallowed and blinked before she returned her attention to her plate.

It seemed to take them only a few more minutes to finish the course and Killian cleared the table, bringing the dishes to the sink.

“And now what?” Emma asked, eyeing the dishes still set on the counter.

Killian turned, crossing his arms to his chest and giving her a playful smile. “And now you leave.”

“You’re kicking me out? This is all I get as dinner?” she tried to tease, but knew it came out a little insecure.  “Way to make a girl feel special, Jones.”

He was at her side in a moment, his eyes boring into hers in a way that took her breath away. “Trust me, Swan, there’s nothing I want more than to make you feel special.” His voice was strong and secure, giving away a lot more than what Emma could process. “Which is why I want you to be completely surprised about what comes next.” He took a step away and reached for her hand. “I took the liberty of setting up a table on the porch.” He pulled her up and opened the door, showing her to the table outside, at the very end of the porch, that had already been set with a vase of flowers and candles. One of his hands lingered on her lower back, his fingers warming her skin even through the fabric of her blouse, and Emma’s breath caught in her throat.

He walked with her towards the table, his hand never leaving her back as he spoke. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to wait for a few moments, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” He gave her a wide grin before he disappeared into the house and came back with the wine and their glasses. He refilled her glass and handed it to her. “The view of the sea is breathtaking at this hour,” he pointed out before he smiled again. “I’ll be back in a tick, I promise.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she said in a flirty tone when he had his back to her and she watched his shoulders tense briefly before he resumed his walk. If the side glance he gave her over his shoulder as he entered the house was any indication, she was in for more than what she’d bargained for.

Her lips curved into a smirk as she sipped the wine. _Happy birthday to me._  

/-/

Emma stood by the porch rail, listening to the waves crash on the shore and sipping her wine. Killian was right, she thought, it was a breathtaking view. Killian’s cottage made her feel more comfortable and at ease than she had in years. She couldn’t have been alone more than ten or fifteen minutes, when she heard the sound of the door opening. She turned to find Killian coming to the table with two plates covered with tin lids.

“Dinner is served, milady,” he announced as he set the plates down. He stood, waiting until she reached the table and pulled out the chair for her. After she was settled, he reached over and removed the lids from both plates.

Emma gasped before a soft smile came to her lips. “I can’t believe you made this,” she whispered as she took in the grilled cheese and onion rings on her plate.

“Well, I’m told it is your favorite,” Killian said as he sat. “But I did take a few liberties with it.”

She couldn’t resist any longer and took a bite. The familiar flavor of cheese and bread melted against her tongue. It was the same as what she loved, but at the same time it was more, so much more. A moan escaped her mouth before she covered it with her hand. “I’m so sorry,” she said in between bites, feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“Darling, don’t you ever apologize for reacting like that to my food. _Ever_ ,” he said and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving hers. “I take it that it is good and it pleases the lady?”

“Beyond good _,_ ” she groaned. “What’s in it?”

“Smoked turkey, a mix of raclette and cheddar, and herbed butter.” He took one of the onion rings and popped it into his mouth. “Oh, and homemade artisan bread,” he added after he finished chewing.

“You made the bread?”

“Does that surprise you? You deserve the best of the best. And we all know,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning in closer, “I’m the best.”

She wanted to roll her eyes and scoff at him, she wanted to respond to his blatant innuendo with a smart remark that would put him in his place. She wanted to do so many things and yet…

“Well in this, you certainly are.” She popped an onion ring in her mouth and licked her fingers, keeping her eyes on his as they widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I wonder if you are this good in other areas,” she mused and curved the corner of her lips in a smile she knew would drive him insane. He wasn’t the only one with a few tricks up his sleeve.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh love, you have no idea how good I can be,” he answered and took a bite of his sandwich.

/-/

Emma Swan was no stranger to an evening that led to a hook up. She had been in this game long enough to recognize the signs and could read between the lines of easy conversation with the best of them. She knew how to interpret the soft gazes and the innocent touches that lingered just a little longer than necessary, the soft grazes of fingertips against skin that could raise goosebumps. She could feel moods changing from innocent flirtation to heated intentions hidden in the undertones of a voice.

Emma Swan knew it all. She knew all the signs and she knew when she should be calling it quits. And somehow, as Killian cleared the table and excused himself to do the dishes, she followed him inside, bringing their glasses of wine and the bottle with her and pouring him another glass.

“I want to thank you, Killian,” she said as he finished drying the last dish and put it in its place.

“Don’t thank me yet, lass, because we’re not done.” His movement was graceful as he reached to open the fridge and removed something. When he turned, Emma could see he was holding either a big cupcake or a small cake. It was hard to tell exactly what it was, but it was enough dessert to feed both of them.

He set it on the counter in front of her and Emma noticed a candle with a blue star sitting on top.

“Rocky road birthday cupcake. Dark chocolate cake topped with chocolate ganache, mini-marshmallows, dark chocolate chips, walnuts, and white chocolate chips.” He reached for something behind him and Emma saw a small tin container. “And for the final touch,” he said as he sprinkled cinnamon on top of it. Emma was still stuck on how absolutely, decadently sinful it looked when Killian lit the candle.

“Happy birthday, Emma. Make a wish.”

Her mind drew a blank as she refused to go with the things her heart was suggesting. So she simply closed her eyes, held her breath for a second, and blew out the candle. Killian removed it and handed her a fork. She quickly cut into the dessert and made sure to get a bit of everything on the forkful she took to her mouth.

Something this good needed to be savoured slowly, which was why she closed her eyes and took her time, letting the chocolate and the walnuts and the cinnamon dance in her mouth, the flavors and the sensations impossible to resist. She met Killian’s eyes and found him staring at her with a raised eyebrow.

“The verdict?” he asked.

“I think I need another _taste_ to make a final judgement,” she said and scooped up another piece with her fork, motioning for him to try it too. Once again, she let the flavors play on her tongue, but this time she kept her eyes fixated on his, enjoying the way his eyes widened as he savored his bite as well.

She swallowed slowly, her tongue tracing the chocolate that lingered on her lips. “Wow, it really is all about the experience,” she whispered, her finger tracing a line next to where his hand was resting on the counter.

He took a step towards her, clearing his throat. “And how was the experience so far?”

“Good,” she purred and watched as he closed the distance between them even further, until there was almost no space left and she could smell the scent of cologne and the sea on him.

“Just good?” His voice carried the hint of a challenge. “I might need to up my game.”

Her finger traced a line down his shirt. “Maybe you just need to stop talking,” she answered before she fisted his shirt and pulled him to her, closing her lips on his.

There was a small, fleeting moment where he seemed to freeze, a soft gasp escaping the back of his throat. But it was over as quickly as it had started, and then he was kissing her back, one hand getting lost in her hair and the other grabbing her by the waist and pulling her flush against him.

The contact of her body against his - hard lines, soft edges and that incredible smell - caused her to moan.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in quick pants as he rested his forehead against hers. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I heard you moan at my curried lobster quiche that first night.”

Her lips brushed his before she pulled away, a smirk coming to her lips as his lips chased hers. “Well, it was a very good quiche.”

She moved her fingertips against his jaw and could feel the way his lips curved into a smirk as she did.  “I know. It is my trademark move.”

“Really? Is that all you’ve got?” she teased, her fingers tracing down his jaw and to his neck.

“Why? Are you interested in my moves, Swan?” His lips were all but a breath away from hers, his hips pressing in with the hint of a grind against hers. It was too much, and yet, nowhere near close enough.

“Come here, Killian,” she breathed against his lips before she tilted her head and his tongue met hers stroke for stroke.

/-/

It was a short distance from the kitchen counter to the bed, and yet it took them several minutes to maneuver to it, finding the task of keeping their attention on anything but the feel of their hands on one another impossible. His shirt was half unbuttoned and her blouse was hanging off one of the chairs. Halfway to the bed, Killian lifted Emma, scooping her ass as she crossed her legs around his waist. He almost tripped once or twice before he finally removed his lips from her neck and focused on making it to the bed.

The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore came from the open window as he laid her gently on the bed, his body hovering over hers but not making any contact other than his lips tracing feather-like kisses down her throat. Once again, it was too much and not enough. She grabbed at his now open shirt and pulled him to her, his weight pinning her against the mattress. A guttural sound escaped from the back of his throat, breaking the spell of his contact against her skin. He rested his forehead at the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, his tongue tracing a delicate pattern into her skin as he rutted his hips against hers. Emma gasped, the friction of his jeans against hers giving her a hint of the feeling she was craving. Her hips arched to meet his, her hands pulling his face to hers to kiss him desperately as they dry humped like two horny teenagers who didn't know where to start when it came to removing clothing.

Finally, Emma took the lead, reaching to finish peeling his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it aside, before raking her nails down his naked chest and then using the charms of his necklace to pull him into another kiss. Killian seemed to recover a little of his usual smoothness, and his palms pressed softly against her ribcage and moved up until they cupped her breasts. He circled her nipples with his thumbs over the fabric of her bra before he reached behind her to unclasp it and then pull the straps down her arms.

“You weren’t joking about those nimble fingers,” she tried to tease, but the last of her words came in between moans as his mouth closed on one of her nipples and said fingers pinched the other. He took his time exploring her breasts, his fingers trailing down the sides and up the curve of their undersides, his hands cupping them and pressing at their weight, all while his mouth alternated between her nipples. When he finally pulled away, he lifted his head to look at her, his pupils dilated and his disheveled hair falling over his forehead. The smile he gave her was the perfect mix of smug smirk and goofy grin.

“You like my nimble fingers, huh?” he teased, his fingertips moving down her ribcage and caressing her stomach.

“Well, your tongue was putting on a good show too,” she replied, gasping when his fingers brushed a spot just below her ribs.

“Really?” he said, his tone only enhancing the heat that had been spreading over her body. He cocked an eyebrow at her before he bent his head, tracing open mouth kisses down her breastbone to her navel. His scruff scratched at her skin as he did, causing her to gasp again. “Let me put both to a good use then,” he mumbled against her belly button before he reached to remove her jeans and push down her underwear.

Once he had her stripped down, he gently nudged her legs open and started a trail of kisses up her calf, over her knee, and down her inner thigh until he reached her core. She moaned when his tongue flicked against her, and she could feel his groan reverberate against her most sensitive skin. She looked down to see him smile as he teased a finger at her entrance and was rewarded with a twitch of her hips. His fingers and tongue worked together and had her bucking her hips and moving in rhythm with him, trembling on the bed as she tried to keep her sanity.  The speed with which he brought her to orgasm would have been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact that it had been the culmination of what they’d been building for the past six weeks. Emma could have pretended otherwise, but from the moment he laid eyes on her - and she on him - it was meant to be. Every teasing word, every fleeting touch, every moment spent in each other’s company, everything he’d said with anything but words - his cooking, his eyes, his smiles and his gestures - it all had led to this.

When she came back from her high, she felt like a buzz was still spreading over her, her body eager and ready for more. The tingling of her skin only rose when her eyes connected with Killian’s hooded stare from where he was still perched between her legs wearing a satisfied smile.

“Come here.” She crooked her finger and he quickly obeyed, standing up. Her eyes followed the line of his chest hair, watching it narrow as it made its way down his abs and disappeared into his jeans. She needed to follow that trail with her tongue at some point in the night, but for now she relished the act of tracing his jean-clad leg with her bare foot.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Jones,” she announced, her foot moving slowly up his thigh.

He kneeled on the bed and slowly moved to hover over her, his lower body pressing into her. She couldn’t stop the moan that came from her lips. “Do you want to give me a hand with that, love?” he asked as he bit down her earlobe.

Emma shoved him playfully and he obliged with a laugh, shifting to lay back on the bed. She wasted no time straddling him, her hands taking their time exploring his chest and stomach before she popped the buttons of his jeans open, one by one. Her fingers inched underneath and she gasped at the velvety skin and dusting of hair she found.

“No underwear?” She lifted an eyebrow at him, her fingers tracing to just above where the head of his cock rested.

“You were just complaining I had too many clothes on.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She slowly removed his pants and when her hand closed on him, he groaned and bucked his hips. She stroked him with an unhurried rhythm that seemed to build her up as much him. She almost came a second time when her mouth closed around him and she heard him curse, the combination of his strained voice and the pleasure etched on his face were the most erotic thing Emma had ever experienced in her life. She swirled her tongue around him in broad, slow strokes, tracing his skin while her hand cupped him. She reveled in his breathy curses as his hand reached for her hair. He gently pulled her away from him and she gave him one final lick before releasing him. He dragged her body up until he could meet her lips in a searing kiss, his tongue stroking as his hands roamed her body. She moved in pace with him, feeling him slide along her center with each roll of their hips.

They kept at that for a while, slowly building the heat until it was too much and not near enough for both of them. Killian eventually pulled back, half-sitting on the bed and reaching for his nightstand drawer. Once he pulled a condom from it, Emma took it from his hands and gave him a wicked smile as she tore the foil package and settled above him. She took him back in hand, rolling the condom down his length, stroking him again as she did. Letting go, she moved a hand to his shoulder and rubbed against him a few times, feeling him nudging at her entrance before she took him back in hand and guided him into her. She slowly sank down and rested her forehead against his shoulder for a moment once she was fully seated, letting the sensations settle in her. She was already so close, she could feel him pulse inside of her, she could feel herself contract around him in response, but she wanted more. She wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as she could hold on, dragging out the pleasure time and again.

He cradled her face with his hand and brought her attention to him, his hooded eyes boring into hers, his swollen lips whispering against hers. “Slow, Emma, let’s take this slow,” he begged, echoing her feelings with his words and all she could do was nod before she started moving with small rolls of her hips meeting each of his thrusts. He pulled her closer to him, his lips tracing her skin as he pressed into her, dragging against her walls.

They built themselves up gradually, each of them slowing down every time they got close, working to hold onto the pleasure for as long as possible. When she came, it was with a soft cry of his name as she collapsed into his arms and he caught her, prolonging her shudders with a soft movement of his hips before he picked up the pace and quickly followed her.

Emma couldn’t recall how long they stayed like that, holding one another before she disentangled herself from him and dropped to the bed. Sated from the food and sex, exhausted from weeks of being on the road, she started to drift asleep. She thought to move, to force herself to wake up, but was met with a soothing caress on her face from Killian. “Sleep, darling,” he whispered before he left the bed.

She felt the mattress dip a few moments later, covers being drawn over her and his arms pulling her to him, wrapping her into a comfortable cocoon that smelled of the sea, and sweat, and _him_.

Emma sighed, snuggling closer. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the soft kiss he pressed to her lips.

/-/

Emma woke almost at dawn, the first of the morning’s light filtering through the open window and bringing her slowly to consciousness. She stretched, her mind starting to remember the events of the night before. Her heart started beating frantically in her chest as she cracked one eye open and turned her head to find Killian Jones behind her.

He was sleeping peacefully, the light catching the red highlights of his beard, his expression serene and comfortable as his eyelashes almost touched his cheeks. He looked wonderful, the perfect picture of a morning after, the poster boy for blissful domesticity.

This was bad and Emma knew it. She’d known it before, and it was why she’d set strict rules about her _dalliances_. She groaned inwardly at the fact that he’d gotten so far under her skin that she was starting to sound like him in her own mind. She was _so_ screwed.

She could have handled a tryst with the _Pirate Chef_ but _this_ , this was not a tryst. Last night had been a full-blown, romantic date with dinner and wine and perfect conversation and freaking _love making_.

And she knew it. She had known all along and yet she’d gone with it, walking right into it with her eyes wide open. But she knew she couldn't handle it in the end. Killian Jones had become the kind of trouble she couldn’t find herself in. Because the last time she did -

Her racing thoughts were cut off when she felt his arms pulling her closer to him, soft fingertips on her skin and sighs filling the room. It further proved her point that there was nothing left of the cocky chef she thought him to be, and he was nothing but a puppy-dog-eyed, _caring_ , man who was currently curling his hand against her stomach and mumbling nonsense in her ear as he nuzzled her neck.

It was wonderful. It made her want to turn around and do nothing but sink into his arms, his warmth, his _everything._

Which was why Emma Swan needed to get the hell out of there. _Pronto_.

Hoping he was still more asleep than awake, she slowly disentangled herself from his arms and slipped from the bed, trying to make as little noise as possible. Locating her discarded clothes proved to be a challenge, but the light creeping through the window helped her find a few items. She had her underwear and jeans on by the time Killian seemed to realize she was no longer in bed with him.

“Emma,” he called, and she could almost feel the smile in his voice. She didn’t dare to turn around.  “Emma?” His voice changed the second time he called for her. It was hesitant, carrying a hint of fear and sadness in it.

She turned around to find him lying on the bed, half-propped on one elbow, looking at her with confusion. He searched her face and his expression changed from confusion to heartache the moment he realized her intent.

“Don’t run,” he pleaded but Emma shook her head. She took a couple of steps back and reached the middle of the room, putting enough distance between them, hoping it would ease the ache. “Emma, please,” he begged, his voice breaking her heart, but she forced herself to push through. She fought against the tears that welled up as she found her green blouse and put it on. Her eyes met his and she could see the pain in them.

“I - I can’t. I’m sorry,” she whispered. She grabbed her boots and her leather jacket and headed for the door before she gave him a final look. “This was a mistake. It should never have happened.”

It was only when she’d left the cottage, the door closed shut firmly behind her that Emma let her tears fall freely.


	7. Week #6: Oxford

** **

 

** Week #6: Oxford  **

Fortune didn’t favor the brave, and she certainly didn’t favor the weak. Emma was counting on no one being awake when she came back from the longest walk-of-shame that ever existed, her hair tangled and dried tear tracks down her face. She wasn’t that lucky. She tried to sneak in through the kitchen only to find Ashley, Tink, and Granny there. She stopped at the door and closed her eyes, cursing her luck.

But she was Emma Swan, and right now, she didn’t care about the judgmental looks she might get. She didn’t care about anything other than reaching her room so she could collapse on the bed and let the world crumble around her. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and pursed her lips into a tight line.

“Good morning,” she said, giving them a side glance - enough to see Tink’s worried expression and Granny’s sad smile - before she looked ahead and marched towards her room.

Emma fell back against the door once she shut it, closing her eyes and bumping her head against the wood. 

She remained there for a long time, at least what felt like a long time, before she moved to lay on the bed, face down. She wanted the world to stop, she wanted to buy herself more time, but she knew it was a fruitless wish.

She wasn’t surprised by the knock on her door that came a few minutes later. Emma stood up, rearranged her clothes and ran a hand through her hair, trying to put some order to herself. If she were to take a wild guess, she was in for a scolding from Granny or some disappointed words from Tink. She could take either like a champ. It was what she did.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Her knees almost gave way at the sight of blonde hair and blue eyes staring back at her.

“Ashley.” Emma sighed, letting out the breath she’d been holding and leaning against the doorframe.

“Well, we couldn’t send Aurora,” Ashley stated matter-of-factly. “You know how she is. She would have trapped you in a cellar with him or something until you worked it out. Because ‘ _true love always wins in the end_ ,’” she finished with a roll of her eyes as if she were a princess dreaming of her white knight.

Emma laughed half-heartedly at Ashley’s attempt to cheer her up. Ashley tilted her head and gave her a grim.

“We leave in fifteen minutes,” she said and Emma’s heart sank in her chest.

“Ashley, I can’t -” she started frantically, the idea of facing the man who she’d left calling for her on his bed less than two hours ago making her shake.

“I know,” Ashley interrupted her. She reached in the back pocket of her jeans and pulled a few papers from it. “Here’s a train ticket. And directions on how to reach the train station. You can meet us by the end of the day.” She gave her an encouraging smile. “Granny okay’d it,” she added.

Emma took the paper, at a loss for words. “I -”

Ashley waved her hand. “Just tell me, do I need to have Sean punch him?”

Emma’s breath came out in a small sob, her eyes welling with tears. “No. Not at all. This - it wasn’t his fault. I’m the one who made a mess.”

Ashley took one of Emma’s hand in hers. “We’ll figure it out, Emma. You always figure it out,” she said confidently.

Emma smiled through her tears. “Ashley...”

“This is the part where you tell me I'm going to be a great producer one day, right?” Ashley teased, the corner of her lips curving in a knowing smile.

Emma hugged her, pouring all her pride and gratitude into it. “You already are,” she whispered.

“See you in Oxford, Emma.”

/-/

Six hours, two cab rides, one train ride, and five _terrible_ coffees later - she was really going to miss his coffee making skills, and _him_ , but she was avoiding thinking about that last part - Emma finally made it to the inn in Oxford, only to find everything had already been set in motion. Aurora and Granny had left to go shopping for ingredients, Tink and Ashley were on site, setting up with Belle and the crew, and there was nothing left for Emma to do. Nothing but stand there, wondering where Killian was. Eric had been extremely polite but distant, giving Emma the key to her room and informing her of everyone’s whereabouts - everyone except Killian. She didn’t dare to ask, not directly, not after the spectacle she made of herself that morning - and the night before.

So she sat in the lounge, focusing on her work and revising the schedule for the next day when someone pushed a cup in front of her. She lift her head and found Eric giving her a shy smile. She quickly buried her disappointment.

“It probably won’t be the same, but I thought you could use a cup of coffee,” he said hesitantly.

“Thank you.” Emma brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. The flavor melted over her tongue and she sighed happily. It wasn’t as good as Killian’s, but she was thankful for Eric’s small gesture of comfort.

The front door of the inn opened with a creak and Emma turned, imagining that Aurora and Granny must be back. But the figure that froze at the entrance when he spotted her made Emma’s blood run cold. She knew it was bound to happen, she was going to run into Killian eventually and she had mentally prepared for it.

_But still she wasn’t ready for it._

Eric gave Killian a worried glance, his hand gesturing to the coffee as his lips opened to offer an explanation, but Killian waved him off, taking a few steps into the lounge carrying a few grocery bags with him.

“Don’t worry about it, Eric,” he said in a clipped tone. He stood there for a moment, clenching his jaw and averting his eyes. Eric looked from him to Emma before he mumbled an apology and escaped up the stairs. Emma didn’t blame him. The tension in the room was almost impossible to handle, but she knew she had to. She knew she had to speak first.

“Killian, I -” she started and when he lifted his head to look at her, her resolve almost broke. There was such hurt and sadness in his eyes that Emma felt a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed and tried to force herself to continue. “I’m sorry, Killian. It’s not - I -” she stuttered, the words refusing to come out of her mouth in any logical manner. “Mixing business with plea -”

He shook his head, cutting off her poor attempt at an explanation.  “I understood your message loud and clear, Swan.” He bit the words out and looked away again, standing with his shoulders squared.

“Killian.” She hesitated, wanting to reach out to him but knowing it was a very bad idea. “It’s not like there could ever be -” She sighed, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I mean, I don’t date and this -”

“I said I understood, love.” There was such fierce intensity in the words that it made Emma recoil. She looked at him and found nothing but hurt and anger staring back at her. “You regret this ever happened.” His hand motioned between the two of them to make his point. “You never wanted to be associated with someone like me in the first place. You made it perfectly clear that first day, let alone _daily_ thereafter. I got it.” He clenched his jaw, his knuckles white where he was holding the grocery bags. He tilted his head to the side, exhaling from his nose as if he were trying to control himself. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said in a defeated tone as he started to walk out.

“You’re not having dinner with us?” The words escaped her mouth before she was able to control them. She bit her lip and winced at herself, but it was too late. He stopped but he didn’t turned to face her. He only tilted his head to the side, giving her a glance over his shoulder.

“I was invited out by one of my suppliers. I haven’t seen him and his daughter in a while. I’ll be back late. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take advantage of the kitchen being free and start my prep.”

“Do you need any help?” Emma shook her head at herself and cursed internally. _Seriously, what was wrong with her?_

He turned around to fully face her this time, and there was nothing left of Killian Jones. Not in the way he looked at her, nor in the way he spoke. There was nothing left of the man she’d come to known the past few weeks - the man behind the _Pirate Chef_ mask.

“No, Swan, I’ll be fine. I can manage. I need to keep my fingers nimble for the next Victoria’s Secret Angel, don’t I?” His voice didn’t even seem to be his own. It was a biting remark, followed by a lewd once over before he turned and left her sitting there, tears threatening to spill over.

The barb shouldn’t have hurt that much. The fact that he was avoiding her shouldn’t sting, considering she was the one who had walked away from him less than twelve hours ago. _Had it only been twelve hours?_  None of his actions should hurt, considering she’d brought them upon herself.

But they did.

/-/

She didn’t see him until the next day on location, fully geared up and avoiding her at every turn. Even the worst episodes with Em and Zelena felt like unicorns and rainbows compared to the anxiety that Killian avoiding her was giving Emma. But he was a professional, she knew that, and after a few hours he eased into his role, exchanging barbs back and forth with Granny. He’d chosen to make Irish stew that day, an homage to his late mother, and was regaling Granny with tales of his childhood when a voice interrupted the scene, loud and clear.

“You need more Guinness!”

After his initial falter, Killian rolled his eyes in exasperation. Emma turned around, ready to bite the head off of whatever asshole had dared to interrupt, and forcing them to start one of the most complicated sequences they were doing over again. She spotted the culprit, a broad-shouldered man that was standing nearby with a self-righteous smirk on his face. Emma was making her way to him, a curse on the tip of her tongue when she saw a blur of blonde and green running past her. It seemed Tink was determined to bite the head off the intruder before Emma and since she was the local producer, Emma figured she could give her the first punch.

And punch him she did, a fist right into his shoulder as she squealed and yelled that he was an idiot. He took a step back, laughing wholeheartedly before he caught the second fist with his hand and pulled Tink to him. She went willingly, jumping into him. He caught her in his arms as she crossed her ankles behind his back and proceeded to kiss the daylights out of him.

_Oh. OH._

“Leave it to my brother to embarrass me in front of one of the best cooks alive, ruin the shot, and engage in public indecency with my producer,” Killian called, feigning an anger that he clearly didn’t feel. For a moment, Emma caught a glimpse of the Killian who had been missing for the past two days. Killian looked at Granny, a soft smile coming to his lips. “Would it bother you too much if we take a small break, milady? Tink hasn’t seen her husband in months, between our schedule and his.”

“We have plenty of time to shoot, boy. Let the young lovers enjoy their reunion,” Granny said, a smile coming to her lips as she watched them. They had slowed down their affections a little, and were now standing close to each other, their foreheads resting together and exchanging soft smiles.

“Oh no, I plan to crash that reunion right away. I still owe her for the first episode.” Killian winked before he cleaned his hands and made his way towards Tink and his brother.

“Oi! Did you come to see me or my producer?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Liam replied, leaving Tink’s embrace and pulling Killian into a hug.

From up close, Emma could see the family resemblance as she watched the two of them begin to talk. Whatever they said to one another, it was spoken in such a low voice that no one could hear. But when Killian pulled away, there was a serene expression on his face and the hint of a tear in the corner of his eye.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” Killian said in a reproachful tone as he clasped his brother's shoulder.

“We had the wind in our favor and made port earlier than expected. I thought it was better to surprise the both of you.” He walked around, greeting Belle and the rest of Killian’s crew and then stopped to kiss Granny’s hand in the same fashion Killian had. 

Killian and Tink made the rounds, introducing Liam to everyone from Granny’s crew until they finally reached Emma. Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she was faced with Killian again. His eyes flickered for a second before he got a hold of himself. “Liam, this is Granny’s producer, Emma Swan.” He cleared his throat. “Emma, this is my brother, Liam Jones.”

“Captain Jones, at your service.” He bowed to her and Emma noticed his eyes were the same shade of blue as his brother’s. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Panic rose in her as she stole a glance to Killian, who seemed confused.

“Well yes, lass! Tink won’t shut up about what a fantastic producer you are,” Liam said confused, oblivious to the exchanged glances between Killian and Tink.

“Right.” Emma plastered a smile on her face, hoping it was good enough to fool the elder Jones.

“I hope they are not giving you too much of a hard time, though,” Liam continued, thankfully unaware of the tensions around him. “These two can be terrible, trust me.” He cocked an eyebrow in such a familiar way that Emma lost her focus for a second.

“Oh, no no.” She shook her head. “No problems whatsoever,” she assured him.

“Then who are you and what have you done with my little brother?” Liam jested, putting his arm around his brother and bringing him to his side. “There hasn’t been one producer who has worked with him, outside my lovely wife, who hasn’t complained about him. What did you do to tame him?”

She wasn’t sure who choked first, but Tink was the first to recover. “Liam!” She threw him a look that he was clearly able to read. “You must be tired from your trip, and Killian needs to get back to shooting. Why don’t you come with me and I’ll fetch you some tea while Emma and Ashley take over?” She pried Liam’s arm away from Killian’s shoulders and interlaced their hands. Liam agreed and he nodded to Emma in greeting before he let himself be led away by Tink.

Emma didn’t have time to get herself together before Killian turned around and made his way back towards where Granny was, ready to move on.

/-/

Liam and Tink emerged from wherever they went twenty minutes later, a mug of tea in his hands and a resolute stare on his face. From that moment on, he never left his wife’s side during shooting, and he spent every break with Killian, the two men either walking around the premises or sitting down in a secluded corner. They were constantly talking, Liam first, followed by Killian and then back again. Whatever it was they were discussing, it seemed it did Killian some good, as he appeared to be more relaxed as the day wore on.

Emma sat by a tree, far away enough from the location not to disturb anyone, but close enough to keep an eye on things. It had been a hard couple of days and she knew the next week would be the same, but they were close to the finish line now and she could hold on a little longer. Then the shooting would be over and they would go back home.

_To an empty apartment and lonely nights. To take out menus and pizza delivery because there was nothing more depressing for Emma Swan than cooking for one._

Her gaze lingered on where Killian was, perched on one of the stools as he and Liam were discussing his recipe. A steaming mug appeared in her line of sight, and Emma lifted her head to find Tink smiling at her with two mugs in her hands. She handed Emma one and then held onto the other as the plopped herself on the ground next to Emma. Her gaze followed the direction that Emma’s had before as she took a sip of her tea.

“They seem pretty close,” Emma offered, not sure what else to say.

Tink nodded, stretching her legs and turning to face her, her eyes boring into Emma’s. “You know, I try to keep things separated, compartmentalized,” she started, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “It’s hard, but it’s the only way it works. Killian was my friend before he was my brother-in-law. He was my family before he was my show’s star.” Her finger traced the rim of her mug. “When I’m his producer, I’m not his sister-in-law and vice versa.”

Emma could see where this was going and she took a deep breath. She knew it was bound to happen and perhaps it was better if it came from Tink. “And now? Which one you are at this moment?” she asked as her eyes darted to where Killian and Liam were.

Tink shrugged, a self-deprecating smile coming to her lips. “That’s the problem here.” She took a moment to ponder her words. “A little bit of both, probably. But mostly, his oldest friend.” She faced Emma with an earnest look. “I know what everyone thinks about the Pirate Chef and the reputation he has. I helped build that reputation after all. You know how it is. There’s one unfortunate situation in a moment of weakness, and after that you just roll with it. A rumor here, a perfectly placed picture there. Silence in the face of allegations, letting everyone think it’s true instead of issuing a statement denying it. A few targeted appearances here and there. An Instagram pic that hints at a lot more than there actually is.” Her voice broke a little with the sentiment she was pouring into the words that came next. “But I’ve known Killian Jones for the past fifteen years, long before the persona he - _we_ \- built for the media ever appeared. So, let me tell you this, Emma. Whatever this thing going on between the two of you is - and I think he’s still trying to figure out his feelings - it was not a ruse to get you in bed. It’s real.” She trailed off, averting her eyes and Emma wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear the last of her words. “As real as I never thought he’d be again.”

/-/

When the shooting was done, Emma and her crew stayed in Oxford a little longer. There was only London left, the final show location, and after that they were heading home. They went over what they wouldn’t need in London and could therefore be properly packed and sent directly to network’s headquarters. After they were done and finally back at the inn, Emma set up camp in the lounge again, using the plans for the next season as an excuse to keep herself distracted, trying to avoid thinking about any of the other things that would creep into her mind if she didn’t bury herself in her work.

Things like the one that has just walked into the lounge, fresh from his room, hair still damp and disheveled from the shower, sporting jeans and a black shirt that reminded Emma of the night of her birthday. He was carrying a package wrapped in white linen in his hands. He tensed when his eyes connected with hers and he looked away, running his hand through his hair.

“I can leave,” she offered. Her voice sounded small and insecure, even to her, the ache of feeling unwanted coming back to her like an old foe you wished you never had to meet again. Even when she’d brought this one upon herself.

He shook his head, taking a tentative step into the room. “No, Swan, it’s fine.” She expected to hear anger in his voice, considering the last time they’d been alone he was still very hurt and it’d only been day. But there wasn’t any anger in his words, only despair and exhaustion. “I was just passing through. I’m going into town with Liam.”

“Oh, of course,” she said. It made sense. And yet, it was the second night he’d run away from them - from _her_. “Killian, I’m -” she started, but the intensity of his gaze made her stop. What was she going to say anyway? That she was sorry? For what exactly? For walking out on him without at least having breakfast? For sleeping with the star of the show when she knew it was going to be awkward afterwards? Or was she going to be honest with him and tell him she was sorry she got scared and ran away from the first person who had made her _feel_ something in over a decade?

Emma wasn’t even ready to fully admit that to herself, let alone to Killian. Besides, even if she did, what good could come out of it? She was already packing her bags and flying across the ocean in less than a week. Why prolong it when the inevitable was looming over them? For a few more nights together, only to have more things - feelings, Emma, _feelings_ \- develop between them and make it even more painful when the departure happened? She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn't do that to herself.

Killian waited, letting the silence stretch between them, giving her one more chance. But when Emma couldn’t find the words, he didn’t flinch, his jaw didn’t clench, his hand didn’t close in a fist at his side. He simply sighed, a soft and resigned sound that struck deep into the foundation of herself. He took a few tentative steps in her direction, but instead of sitting next to her on the couch, he chose to take a seat at the table in front of her. He was so close, she could smell his cologne and a wave of memories came crashing into her, threatening to drown her with thoughts of his touch, the way his lips lingered on her skin as he kissed a pattern down her throat, the way he felt buried deep inside her, his slow movements making each nerve in her body tingle with pleasure.

He seemed as affected as she was, his breath catching in his throat as he swallowed and looked away, toying with the package in his hands.

“I used to have a cooking assistant, you know. Her name was Milah.” His voice was almost inaudible, as if his words were trapped in a long-kept memory. “I met her when I was part of another show, just a sous-chef for someone else. She used to prep with me.” His lips curved into a sad smile. “To say I fell for her would be an understatement. I feel hard - hook, line and sinker, as Liam would say. She was, well, Swan, she was everything.” His eyes drifted to hers briefly and Emma could see the lingering pain in them. “She came with me as my assistant on this show. I had never been so happy in my life…” He trailed off, his hands fidgeting with the linen in his hands and she could recognize the signs of where this was going.

_Stories like this never end well._

She didn’t want to ask, she knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she knew he _needed_ to tell her. She could give him that much. “What happened?”

His voice was nothing but pain and despair. “Pulmonary embolism, right out of the blue. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” There was the hint of a tear in the corner of her eyes and her fingers twitched to dry it, to ease the pain of his memories. But she kept her hands firmly on her lap.

“Killian, I’m so sorry,” she offered almost lamely, because she knew there were no words. Much like his empathy at the fact she had no family, there was nothing to undo the hurt and the pain that had already been inflicted, branding them and shaping them into the people they were today.

He gave her a soft nod, an acknowledgement of her sentiment, an understanding of the things she left unsaid. He stayed there for a moment, letting the silence wash over them once again. When he spoke again, he was staring directly at her, his pain gone and replaced with yearning. He said in barely a whisper, “I’ve been doing this show without her for years and I’ve always cooked on my own. I couldn’t even bear the thought of someone prepping with me, of letting anyone get too close to me, to what I hold dear. That is, until I met you.”

The last words could have been a sword running through her and they would have hurt less. She could feel the tears coming to her eyes as he simply sighed, standing and placing the linen package on the table. “I never got a chance to give you these the other evening. Please take them. I - I couldn’t bear the thought of them belonging to anyone but you.” He gave her one last look and for a moment she thought he was going to reach for her. But he didn’t. He took a step back as he murmured, “Goodnight, Emma.”

Emma waited until he’d left the room and reached for the package with shaking fingers, having a hard time unwrapping it. She gasped when she spotted a set of custom ceramic knives, much like the black ones of his she had admired, the only difference was they were green. There was a small card with them, Killian’s flowery handwriting almost impossible to read through the tears that were now falling freely down her face.

_Someone like you shouldn’t covet anything in her life. You deserve everything your heart desires._

She couldn’t say how long she sat there, crying silently; she only knew that at some point she felt arms pulling her into an embrace. Finding it was Granny, she leaned into her shoulder and let her emotions overtake her. 


	8. Week #7 London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it... the end of the road. thank you so much for every comment and kudos, thank you for reading this.  
> I'll be resuming my other multichapter, Time Upon Once, in a couple of weeks :)

** Week #7 London  **

The trip to London was a quiet one. Killian had chosen to ride with Tink and Liam separately, sending his apologies beforehand to the rest of the team. There were gloomy faces among most of the crew, the weeks on the road taking a toll on everyone and adding to the dreaded sense of finality. Despite the early hours and crazy days, there had been such camaraderie between the teams that it seemed it was hard for everyone to see the season come to an end. Adding to that was the fact they weren’t sure if this would be a one-time thing. They all had hopes the audience would react positively to the new spin on the collaborative show. Tink and Emma thought they had a great show and that their audiences would love it. They all hoped the network would choose to continue with the format in upcoming years, but even if the show was a success, there still could be a million reasons why this might not happen again.

_For starters, Emma wasn’t sure Killian Jones would ever want to be near her again._ And she wasn’t sure she could actually go through another eight weeks in close quarters with the man without losing her mind - her sanity, her _heart_ \- and making a fool out of herself. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to stomach watching the show once it aired, or during editing. The idea of hours spent cooped up in an editing room watching Killian on screen - so close and yet so far away - was ripping her apart. But she was a professional, and she could wait until she reached the confines of her apartment before falling apart in a binge of imported beer and artisan ice cream. Yes, not even in a broken state could she forget what Granny had taught her.

All her gloomy thoughts were pushed aside, though, the moment they made it to the outskirts of London. Aurora started gasping in delight before the bus had even stopped. She hopped off as soon as it had parked and threw herself in the arms of the man who was waiting for her.

“What is Phillip doing here?” Emma asked confused, only to be surprised by Robin hopping off the other bus and embracing a striking, dark-haired woman with a little kid. And the final squeal was from Ashley and Sean, when they spotted Alexandra accompanied by her grandparents and rushed to lift her in their arms.

Emma turned around and was met with Granny’s serene smile as she watched everyone. She didn’t seem confused or surprised, and suddenly Emma remembered the conversation she had with Killian a few weeks ago.

“This is what Killian and you were planning,” she said in awe. Granny tilted her head, smiling with a soft nod of her head.

“Liam was just the first to arrive, but that didn’t mean we hadn’t planned surprises for all.” She smiled as she pulled Emma to her side and they hopped off the bus. “We couldn’t have a farewell party without all of them. We knew how much of a sacrifice it was for some of them to be away from their families, and we just...” she trailed off and Emma squeezed her hand.

“You’re a good woman, Hannah Lucas,” she offered as she rested her head on Granny’s shoulder.

“I only wish there were someone waiting for you here, my dear.”

“I have you guys. I don’t need anyone else.” Emma tried to say it with conviction, but the words felt like a lie that not even she believed.

/-/

With everyone’s loved ones in town, no collective plans were made for the evening and each group took off on their own. Emma and Granny went shopping for ingredients, and while she always enjoyed spending time with Granny and learning from her, there was still a slight pang of regret. She couldn't keep her mind from drifting to the previous weeks and the afternoons spent with Killian, learning about places and sights and food - and a lot about each other in between. She knew he reached to scratch his ear whenever he was nervous and that his eyebrows had a life of their own. There was a lot he could said with just a slight tilt of his head or a look in his eyes. The man was impossible when it came to coffee. He had wrinkled his nose at every coffee cart they’d passed and only chose to purchase freshly roasted coffee from specific stores. He was methodical in his ingredient purchases, studying each element with scrutiny before pondering his options and choosing one, then moving to the next item on the list and starting the process all over again. He spoke with passion about everything that involved food, able to find richness and greatness even in the most simple things, if they were well done.

Emma was brought back from her thoughts by Granny’s voice and when she lifted her head, the other woman’s understanding stare made Emma blush. She averted her eyes and made an excuse about the trip taking a toll on her, but Granny’s soft voice made Emma fully aware that she hadn't bought it.

Their party of two decided that cooking was simply not an option and after storing the ingredients on the fridge - Granny claiming she’d prep early the next morning - they set out to find a place with some good fish and chips to get into the local spirit. If Emma decided to splurge on one or two beers over her usual self-imposed limit, it had nothing to do with the neatly stacked items she'd spotted in the fridge that had tipped her off to the fact Killian had already prepped everything he needed for the next day.

Emma wasn’t necessarily nursing the mother of all hangovers the next morning, but she certainly was a little more on edge than usual. Everyone was happy and cheery, and she didn't exactly hate it, but it was a stark reminder that her life outside the show was simply non-existent. And while it had never bothered her before, it certainly did now. 

As her eyes flickered to Killian for the millionth time that morning, she thought perhaps not everyone was happy that day. He seemed content and at ease, but there was something missing in the way he maneuvered around the kitchen with Granny. There was nothing specific lacking, per se. There were the usual movements, and bantering, and teasing. But it seemed different, as if the words were an old coat he just couldn’t fit in properly this time around. Nevertheless, the way his arms were kneading the dough, his rolled up sleeves giving view to the muscles in his arms, still made for great television.

She was entertaining those thoughts - and only those thoughts - when a familiar voice purred behind her.

“Oh my god, would you look at _that_.”

Emma knew that voice, knew the overtones in it, along with everything else that usually followed after it. She turned to find none other than Ruby Lucas in all her black, leather leggings and baggy-shirted glory. Ruby’s perfectly lined eyes were still fixated on Killian, an eyebrow cocked and biting her lower lip as she admired the man’s form. Of course Ruby would make it to the final episode’s filming, and of course she would arrive late, ready to steal everyone’s thunder.

“Down girl.” Emma reached to hug Ruby tightly. “I thought you were batting for the other team,” she teased after letting Ruby go and watched her go back to ogling Killian.

“I bat for all teams, Emma, you know that.” Ruby smirked, then chanced a last look at Killian and sighed. “But, I’m actually not available at the moment.”

Emma chuckled, because _of course_ Ruby wouldn’t have broken up with Dorothy without having someone else waiting in the wings.

“Let me guess? New fling?” Emma asked, lifting an eyebrow of her own. The blush that tinted Ruby’s cheeks seemed a little odd, but before she could delve into why Ruby was blushing like a teenager, another very familiar voice spoke up behind her and everything fell into place.

“More like an _old fling_.” She knew that strong, smooth voice and lilting accent, the one that had always driven Ruby crazy when she visited the set, anywhere. Emma turned her head to greet the man who was coming their way.

“Graham!” Emma threw herself into the man’s arms, squealing in delight. Graham had been the cameraman on Granny’s show for years before he got a big chance to become a director for another branch of the network. He now traveled around the world filming wildlife documentaries. He and Emma had shared countless sleepless night back in the day, when she started as a producer, shaping the show into what it was now.

“Hello, darling.” He beamed after he had deposited Emma back on the floor and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She flashed him a smile, happy to have her own loved ones here. Granted, they were technically Granny’s, but Emma would claim them as her own for the time being. Her smile soon died on her lips, though, as she noticed Killian fixated on them, his jaw clenched and his hand fisted at his side. His eyes met Emma’s and he quickly shook his head and turned away from her, shifting back to his cooking. Emma wanted to run to him, to explain that she and Graham went way back, much as he did with Belle or Tink, but she stayed rooted to her spot, unable to move.

“So, Emma is doing the pirate.” Ruby clapped her hands in celebration and Graham squinted at her.

“Ruby!” Emma admonished, feeling a blush stain her cheeks. She looked away, searching for anything to focus on but them. Or Killian.

“Well, aren’t you?” Ruby tilted her head towards where Killian and Granny were still filming the scene. “Or actually, if you haven’t been - _why not_? Emma, have you seen the man? Not to mention, the things I heard he can do -”

It was too much, she couldn’t handle this. Emma knew the things he could do and right then, she couldn’t care less because it wasn’t about the things he could do in the bedroom - and those had certainly been above her expectations. It had never been about that, and she was only starting to admit that to herself. It had been about all the other things no one knew he could do, the things he’d only done for her.

“I - “ Emma started, the weight of the last week and a half threatening to bring her to her knees. “Excuse me,” she pleaded as she fought the tears coming to her eyes and escaped to lock herself in a bathroom stall and cry herself out for the second time in less than a week.

But she hadn’t gone far when Ruby reached for her with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I messed up,” she said.

“I’m used to your comments by now.” Emma waved her off, trying to downplay everything knowing full well she couldn’t blame Ruby for opening up the Pandora’s box that was currently her heart.

“I didn’t mean that,” Ruby said with a small voice that Emma barely recognized. “I mean… about Dorothy and Em… and how I ruined it all.” There was such regret in her voice that Emma pushed her tears away from her face and she took Ruby’s hands and made her face her.

“Ruby Lucas, you had _nothing_ to do with it. You’re entitled to leave a relationship that _doesn’t_ make you happy. Em and Zelena would have found another excuse. I know it.” She tilted her head to the side, to where Granny and Killian were laughing and cooking with blinding smiles on their faces. “Besides, it wasn't that bad,” she acknowledged, the corners of her lips curving into a wicked smile.

_It wasn’t bad at all._

Ruby’s smile mirrored hers. “I heard.”

Emma rolled her eyes and swatted Ruby’s arm. “That is _not_ what I was referring to.” She linked Ruby’s arm with hers and started walking towards the filming site, her sadness almost gone as she focused on all the good things that had happened in the last eight weeks. “They were a good crew and the show’s been amazing. So, it was blessing in disguise.”

Ruby nodded, her eyes scanning the site and focusing on Killian as he moved back and forth on his side of the kitchen with those swashbuckling movements that were going to make the audience swoon left and right. _God, he was a natural._

“What about you?” Ruby asked, her head tilting slightly in Killian’s direction and Emma’s smile faltered.

What about her? What about the things Emma Swan had discovered about herself in the past eight weeks? What about the things she had never dared to want before and now was finding herself craving? What about the fears that had paralyzed her before and now seemed to be crumbling by the minute? What about - what _if_ she took a leap of faith?

She shook her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind. “What about me? Nothing, Red, same as always.” She shrugged. “The show finishes shooting this special season. We pack our things and head home. I fly back and my life goes back to normal. The winter special episode is right upon us. I have a show to run.”

Emma pronounced the words with finality, but a sigh escaped her lips at the end and threaten to make her fall apart again. But she pulled through, her armor still intact, even though she knew the sight of Killian alone could put it at risk of shattering completely.

/-/

The day went by and filming progressed with Granny and Killian making an atrocious amount of food that they were planning to share with everyone at the wrap party. Behind the scenes, everyone was mingling and exchanging stories of their loved ones. Killian even cocked an eyebrow when a redhead showed up and greeted Eric with a soft peck to his lips. The tips of Eric’s ears turned pink and Aurora clapped in delight.

“I suppose that is Ariel?” Emma asked, her eyes meeting Killian’s for the first time in hours.

“Aye, the one and the same,” Killian confirmed with a soft nod.

“Well, at least Aurora got to help someone successfully find love this time.” Emma sighed, and ran a hand through her hair as she gave him a soft smile.

“I guess so,” Killian offered, his hands fidgeting with the steaks he was marinating, his eyes avoiding hers. “Eric is a lucky lad.”

Emma wanted to say something else, even if she wasn’t exactly sure how to say it. There was something that had been lingering since their confrontation the day after her birthday.

“Killian,” she called softly, her voice barely a whisper. She waited until he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “I - I don’t regret it,” she started hesitantly and his eyes narrowed in confusion for a brief moment before he realized what she was saying. “I know I handled it badly and it was really unprofessional, but I don’t regret it. I - I’ll never regret it.” She quickly turned and started to walk away, terrified to see in his reaction something she wasn’t ready to face.

/-/

You could count on Granny and Killian for many things, amongst them superb food. The moment Belle yelled the final cut, everyone erupted in cheers and laughs. Will carefully put his camera on the ground and lifted Belle into his arms for a searing kiss. Sean and Ashley were wrapped in bear hug with Alexandra tucked in the middle, and Liam and Tink hadn’t actually been apart for the last four hours. Killian turned to Granny and lifted her hand to place a kiss on it.

“Thank you for a wonderful season, milady.” He smiled. “I hope we can do it again.”

“You did good, boy. In more ways than one.”

Emma frowned in confusion. She wasn’t sute what Granny meant, but before she could ask, she was caught in a tight embrace between Ashley and Aurora, with Belle and Tink piling on. Whatever it was Granny had meant, Emma was sure it could wait until she let out the breath part of her had been holding for the past eight weeks and joined in the celebration with her friends.

Their good mood lifted their spirits and their wrap up took almost no time, leaving them ready for the celebration. Liam and Eric had scouted a few of the local breweries earlier in the day, and brought back beer for all to share. So they all sat in between the boxes, listening to music, eating Granny’s and Killian’s food, and enjoying one another’s company. The air of camaraderie and unity that had been present throughout the trip seemed only to grow as they shared one last meal together. Emma was hanging out with Aurora, Belle, and Ruby, taking small bites of the food in between fits of laughter at the anecdotes they were sharing.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Killian sitting with Tink and Liam, far away from the rest and deep in conversation. Tink seemed to be frazzled, the hair on her bun coming out from different places as she gestured with her hands, and Liam was fidgeting. Emma couldn’t see Killian’s expression clearly, but his shoulders were tense and his posture seemed defensive. It made her wonder what was happening. Things had been strained between Killian and Tink since she’d found out about Emma helping him prep. In light of Milah’s story, Emma now understood why his crew had reacted like they did. However, she’d thought whatever discomfort had been brewing died the moment Emma made a mess of everything. Then the arrival of Liam seemed to put them back on track. But now something was happening, she could feel it, but couldn’t really figure out what it was.

“Emma, are you ok?” Ruby asked.

Emma turned her attention away from the scene that was unfolding between the Joneses. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing,” she assured Ruby, adding a soft smile for good measure. If Ruby had noticed anything, she chose not to comment. Emma sat there, contemplating the scene unfolding in front of her when she saw Granny motioning her over.  “I think Granny needs me. I’ll be right back.”

Granny was waiting for her with a couple of drinks. She gave Emma one and they clinked glasses.

“To another great season,” Emma toasted and took a gulp. The spiced rum was strong, taking her by surprise. “Wow, Killian has rubbed off on you,” Emma teased and took a smaller sip.

Granny’s cocked an eyebrow at her, making Emma blush, but otherwise didn’t comment. Instead she gave a tilt of her head. “I want to thank you, Emma, for everything,” Granny said as they put their glasses aside.

“It’s my job.” Emma shrugged away the compliment but Granny shook her head.

She looked at her with a beaming smile, her voice thick with emotion. “For years you’ve kept us afloat, both this show and the family we’ve built within it. You’ve been helping everyone reach their goals. I’ve seen you welcome crews, nurture them, and help them move onto bigger adventures, never giving a single thought about what _you_ wanted to do with your own life and the adventures you wanted to have. Emma, my dear, I love you, you were - _are_ \- like a second granddaughter to me. I want you to be happy.” She took a deep breath, her hands reaching to cup Emma’s cheeks. “I love you, but you’re fired.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat and her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she tried to process the words she’d heard. Granny wouldn’t just fire her, not without a reason, but the look in Granny’s eyes told her of all the reasons why she was doing it. They were the same reasons Emma spent the last several weeks trying to deny herself. But no one could ever hide anything from Granny. Emma’s eyes filled with tears as she rested her forehead on Granny’s shoulder.

“Granny,” she said, her voice thick with emotion and gratitude.

“ _Go_ , my dear. Stop just going through the motions each season. Take a chance and _live_ your life.”

/-/

Emma took her time. While Liam was now talking with Will and Belle, Killian and Tink were still buried deep in conversation. There was a soft smile and a tight hug between them before Tink walked away to join Liam. Killian downed his drink and then stood, walking away from the party and back to the shed they had converted into a kitchen for the final episode. He sat on one of the crates and stared off, his eyes lost in the late afternoon sun. Emma took a deep breath and went over to him. She needed to know what he was thinking, despite how scared it left her. She knew she needed to do this. Every single moment of the past eight weeks brought her here, and she found that - _finally_ \- there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Swan,” he called when she was within earshot and she smiled.

She pointed to the crate next to his. “Is this seat taken?” Killian shook his head, motioning for her to join him. She perched herself on the crate, perhaps a little closer to him than needed, but Killian didn’t move away. The silence stretched comfortably for a moment and she basked in it before she blurted out, “Granny fired me.”

His shocked expression would have been comical if Emma wasn’t banking her entire life and - most importantly - her heart on his reaction to the news.

“Surely there’s been a mistake,” he said after a few moments. “Granny wouldn’t -”

She rested her hand on his arm and he quieted, focusing his attention on her hand. “It’s ok,” Emma whispered. He glanced back up at her and she knew he was trying to read her. She let him, despite how scary it was, and how much she wanted to hide behind her walls. She could feel her instinct pushing her to hide and she knew it would take time respond automatically to situations like this. Emma took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to keep herself open to him, choosing to show her vulnerability. “I mean, spending a decade on the same show, it’s a long run for a producer. I suppose it’s time for a change.”

Her fingers twitched when he rested his hand above hers. “So - what now?” he asked.

“I’m thinking a change of scenery might be good.” She tilted her head so she could watch his expression at her next words. “Do you know of any shows here in England that might be in need of a producer?” she ventured. She knew full well it was a long shot, that he’d never leave his family behind, but she had to try.

A small smirk came to his lips and his eyes seemed sparkle with some private amusement. “Funny you should mention this whole thing about producers ending their long runs, Swan, as I seem to find myself in need of a new one.”

_That_ caught her attention and it must have been visible on her face because he chuckled. “Tink just quit. Something about having had enough of dealing with me and wanting to go sail the seas for a season with that husband of hers.” He sighed deeply. “My own brother stole my producer away from me.”

Despite his dramatic sigh, he didn’t seem that affected and Emma would have mentioned that, but her eyes had drifted briefly from him to the main party.  She could see Tink, Liam, and Granny with their heads together, whispering and stealing glances in their direction.

“Killian,” she said slowly and the hand that was beneath his pointed in the direction of the conspiratorial group. His eyes followed her direction and he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Tink quit. And at the same time Granny fired me,” Emma said, putting two and two together. “Quite convenient, don’t you think?”

Killian’s eyes were back on hers, a hint of amusement held in them. “If I didn't know any better, I’d say they are trying to push us together.”

And there it was, the elephant in the room they were eager to bring up, but neither sure how. _Well, showtime_ , she thought.

“Do you - do you want to be pushed?” She looked at him, hoping he could see how she felt about it.

“Darling, I’m walking willingly into this.” His voice was soft and smooth, and his free hand reached to caress her cheek. His eyes bored into hers with a plea and an offer at the same time as he looked for final confirmation. She leaned further into him, hoping he could catch the hint. He did, his lips curving into a smile before they closed on hers, his kiss sweet and soft as their lips moved together. It ended too soon for Emma’s liking, and she exhaled deeply as they slowly pulled apart. She bit her lower lip as she risked a glance at him. He was studying her carefully, as if waiting for her to regret her actions or change her mind. She lifted an eyebrow at him and that was all it took for him to kiss her again. He crashed his lips to hers a little more forcefully this time and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

They might have stayed like that for minutes or hours, Emma happy to lose herself in his kiss. There was no other place she’d rather be. When they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers, taking a moment to catch his breath. “ _Very_ willingly,” he added, nuzzling his nose along hers.

The emotion behind his words brought a lump to her throat. “I’m sorry, Killian. I got scared,” she finally said, letting out the words she’d been holding in for more than a week.

His thumb traced her cheek and it grounded her back to the here and now. “I know,” he whispered. “Just, don’t run away from me - from _this_ \- again. We can sort it out, together.” His voice was so full of hope that it tugged at her heart.

“You think we can?” she marvelled, wondering how it was he seemed to have more faith in her than she did in herself.

He pulled away to stare at her, his free hand grabbing hers. “Well, for starters, we have two weeks to plan an entire winter special episode.”

“Tink didn’t even leave plans?”

Killian laughed as the producer in her came out in full force.

“Oh, she did,” he reassured her, his hand leaving her cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But, I thought perhaps it could be something we could do together? “

_Well, that sounded wonderful, and she could see where he was going with this._

“We’ll need a quiet place - no distractions, away from prying eyes,” she stated and her heart did a little jump of joy in the way his eyes twinkled at her with mischief.

“I know just the place.”

Emma knew the place too. And she was now free to imagine herself cozied up in that little cottage for a week or two, planning a show, walking by the beach in the chilly autumn air, enjoying small dinners for two as they snuggled into each other. It was everything she’d never dared to allow herself to dream of until this trip, and now she finally had a face - and a body, and a wonderful man - to go along with it. The wonderful man who was looking at her like she was everything Emma never thought she could be for someone.

“It better have good coffee. I do not function without proper coffee,” she teased and his answering laugh was a sound she wanted to hear. Always.

“I think I told you before, Swan.” He pulled her closer to him.  She gave up all pretense of caring what the rest of the party thought and willingly climbed into his lap. “I’m more than willing to provide you with the best coffee you've ever tasted in the mornings.” His arms closed on her and she basked in the feeling.

She hummed. “You promised a few more things besides coffee.”

His breath tickled her earlobe as his husky whisper sent a shiver down her spine. “And I’m more than happy to deliver them, love.”


End file.
